


An Unlikely Pairing

by Elvhennan



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 86,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28963398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvhennan/pseuds/Elvhennan
Summary: Amheotil Lavellan would be a slave in Dorian’s country, a fact that was not lost on him. But they needed the mage for the Inquisition, so here they were, traversing the world together, and he never thought he’d enjoy the company of a Tevinter so much.
Relationships: Male Lavellan/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 43
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

The Herald of Andraste. Really? I’m not even Andrastian, I’m not even HUMAN. Most frustratingly I cannot remember however this cursed mark ended up on my hand to begin with. 

Luckily for Cassandra and the rest of the Inquisition, years of providing protection and food for Clan Lavellan had taught me to recognize the desperation in someone’s eyes when they needed you. And luckily I was used to sacrificing anything I wanted in life for another’s cause. Because, to be perfectly honest, not only was I not Andrastian, I barely believed in the Elvhen Gods. At least, I found no use in praying to them. I’d seen bandits and Templars alike call for their Gods just before they died upon my sword, for all the good it did them.

No, Faith in some higher power was not for me. COULD something else exist? Of course it COULD, in fact, with the rather large hole in the sky it was beginning to seem more and more like something did, but in any given moment the only thing a man could ever count on was himself. Believing that Andruil would guide your arrow to your target did nothing if you were simply a lousy shot.

So I stayed, because I was surrounded by desperation, and I believed that if I could help then that was the right thing to do. Now, all of these people believed in me. Me. The thin, wirey elf with the close cropped, dark hair and the June vallaslin on his face. It did make me smirk to hear the humans call me “Your Worship” rather than “Knife Eared Bastard” though. I wasn’t sure it could last. We’d paused the Breach from having another growth spurt, but still hadn’t sealed it. No, I saw this ending one of two ways, me swinging from the gallows at Val Royeaux, or me on a leash in some Tevinter Magister’s manse. That was all I could picture, but still I stayed.

Even Solas who I’d been relieved to see on approaching the Forward Camp, I learned later, didn’t seem to appreciate the Dalish. Can’t say I blamed him though, my people hid in the forest and... what? Pretended our flat eared cousins weren’t slaves across all of Thedas? It had never sat right with me once I had learned it to be true when I was just a boy. I’d had nightmares about the passing merchants plucking me up and carrying me off bound and gagged in a cart. It had tempered me young. Serious, determined to be stronger than any enemy, skilled with a bow, skilled with a sword and shield, skilled on a mount, forever honing my body to be agile and my mind to see beyond the falsehoods that so many people would spew without so much as an ounce of shame.

Maybe that is why my new title irked me so. It was a falsehood. I may not have remembered what actually happened that day, but I would say with certainty that Andraste herself did not pluck a Dalish Warrior out of the Fade to be her champion. 

”So, who do you think is the toughest? Josephine, Leliana, or Cassandra?” Varric’s voice cut through my sulking. 

His playful banter, however different from my carefully controlled demeanor, did always make me smile. I might even call the dwarf a friend. At least he ADMITTED being prone to extravagant lies.

”I’m right here, you know!” Cassandra exclaimed in exasperation.

”Cullen is not up for consideration?” Solas chimed in.

”Curly?” Varric scoffed, “They just keep him around to look pretty.”

That, that made me smile openly. I agreed. Cullen was a fine specimen of a human man, and I had a thing for human men. It might have been another side effect of Elvhen slavery. An elf forcing a human to their knees? Fen’Harel take me, I could do that all day.

”Cassandra would slaughter me in combat,” I decided to speak up, “A force of nature, that one.”

”Again, I’m right here,” she rebuked, but I know she remembered me telling her as much in the training yard outside of Haven. I wondered if she was blushing now as she had then.

”I’m well aware,” I replied nonchalantly. Her attraction to me was not misplaced, she was quite striking to behold, but as devout as she was I thought her attraction to me might have more to do with the Herald of Andraste of the Inquisition rather than Amheotil Lavellan of the Free Marches. Still, every so often I offered her a compliment, she would make a fierce wife to somebody someday assuming we all survived the demon horde.

”You would never know Leliana despised you,” I continued my analysis of Varric’s query, “You’d simply wake up one day and find your secrets in scattered pamphlets around Haven. Or, more likely, one day you would not wake up at all. And Josephine, well, we’d all be lost without Josephine.”

Varric laughed. “There you have it!” he proclaimed, “Couldn’t have written it better myself.”

”A little further up, we’re almost to Redcliffe” Cassandra announced.

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than a soldier approached shouting that the gate must remained closed. She did not need to say why as I could already feel the mark sparking in my palm as though I were a lightning mage. Such tedious things these Rifts. Cassandra and I were running into the fray before Varric and Solas had even unsheathed their weapons off their backs. We both fought with the sword and shield, and in a pack of demons we kept them off one another. This is where our similarities lay. Stern, focused, and always ready for the fight. We made short work of our enemies and then, as always, I grit my teeth and held out my left hand, letting the searing mark do, well, whatever it did.  
I didn’t understand a single thing about it. I wasn’t Solas who had traveled the Fade for decades. I wasn’t even an apostate hedge mage who could will a snowflake into existence.

In fact, to me, this mark was a hinderance, sometimes burning so badly that my shield arm grew weak. I think Cassandra knew. The day we’d traveled to find Master Dennet we had gotten trapped between a bear and a Rift. Sticky situation that one, especially when my mark started to burn and the bear took a mighty swipe at my shield. What I normally would have been able to withstand knocked me clear off my feet. I had had to roll out of the grasp of its jaws just to end up in the path of a Shade. All she had asked after the battle was ‘are you alright?’ but her face read ‘can this elf really be our savior?’  
Letting people down was not my strong suit. I had a high tolerance for pain, but being as unfamiliar with magic as I was, having some this powerful living in my arm did me no favors.

We were through the gates and to the Redcliffe keep. We were being told that the Mage Rebellion was now in the hands of a Tevinter Magister. I could barely contain my rage.

”You’ve made a huge mistake,” I told the little elf, Fiona, wondering what kin of mine would ever make that deal. 

We were forced to meet with this Magister Alexius himself, pompous robes, fake smile, ugly face. I’d never met one in person, a Tevinter. I could barely hear him speak over the blood rushing in my ‘knife’ ears. I was picturing a blade between his third and fourth rib finding his heart, or perhaps his lungs, either would please me greatly.

”Felix?” he was looking over my shoulder.

The young man he had introduced as his son did not look well. I rose to ask if he was all right when he pitched forward, my natural instinct took over and I reached out to catch his fall. His father was already upon him, taking him away and excusing himself from the negotiations that had not even begun.

When the room cleared, I realized there was a note in my hand. It read “Meet at the Chantry, You are in danger.”

In danger? From a Tevinter? I fought the urge to roll my eyes. No shit.

They were all looking at me. Solas as unreadable as ever, Varric ‘hmmm’ing with a hand on his chin, Cassandra with a furrowed brow and a hand on the pommel of her sword. I agreed of course, probably a trap, but we had to know what the Fade was going on here and the Chantry was just up the hill, along with some merchants who might want to buy the Fereldan Long Sword I’d taken off a dead Templar. Waste of good steel laying in the Dale when the world was going mad and the villagers needed to protect themselves.

I didn’t get much for that sword but the shop owner seemed grateful to be adding it to her stock and I was happy that I could afford a drink from Flissa on my return to Haven, not that I had to pay for it. The title of Herald earned me free drinks, but Flissa was a sweet woman and I liked to put a coin in her pocket for how often she had to restock on account of the Chargers I’d hired.

As we walked up the steps I could hear a commotion in the Chantry. I threw open the door to find chaos. Lightning cracked and green mist swirled around another Rift. Right in the middle of the building? Sylaise have mercy, we NEEDED to close that Breach.

”Good! You’re finally here, now help me close this, would you?” exclaimed an unfamiliar voice alight with humor, when he turned from the disintegrating demon to address us my heart stopped. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on. I dare say he was even more attractive than my rugged commander Cullen. Arms thick as druffalo hide. Hair so silky the light of the Rift was actually refracting off of it. Skin the color of sweet clover honey.

Time slowed down. It felt like the act of drawing my sword to come to this man’s rescue was impossible. Wait. This wasn’t a trick of lust, time was actually slowed down. There were odd patches of the floor emanating bizarre energy and once I was free from its grasp everything was normal again. It didn’t take long at all, together with this mysterious mage and my company of champions, before the demons were defeated and the Rift was sealed. My arm was still tingling as he turned his gaze on me.

“Fascinating,” he said, his eyes alight, “How does that work exactly?”

I just stared at him, unsure of what to say. Who was he?

He chuckled, “You don’t even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and *boom* Rift closes.”

“Who are you?” it was still the only thing on my mind. Standing this close I could smell the Nobility all over him. The rich perfumes of some court or other.

”Ah, getting ahead of myself again, I see. Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous, how do you do?” He offered a small bow and a sly smile.

Minrathous. He was Tevinter. Dalish and Human curses alike swirled in my mind. Suddenly the rich perfumes threatened to choke me. His arms no longer looked attractive, but threatening. Cassandra said something behind me and my hand found the pommel of my recently sheathed sword.

”Suspicious friends you have here,” he said, “Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance will be valuable as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Are you the one who sent that note, then?” I asked him.

”I am, someone had to warn you after all,” he started. 

He then explained how the Tevinter I’d met earlier was part of some kind of cult and had used time magic to steal the Mage alliance out from under us. It sounded ludicrous, but for how good I was at picking out liars it felt like he was being honest. What kind of lie would that be anyway? Time magic didn’t exist, it wasn’t even a believable lie.

”I’ve never heard of a magic that controls time,” I said matter-of-factly.

”That would be most fascinating, if true” I heard Solas behind me, he WOULD say that, “And almost certainly dangerous.”

This Dorian fellow went on to explain that that had been the cause of all those strange patches on the floor and that’s when I became CERTAIN he was telling the truth, but I felt a burning contempt for him all the same. A magic that controlled time, Fenedhis Lasa, things just kept getting worse.

”I’d like more proof than ‘magical time control, go with it’” I sneered, simply to test him.

”I know what I’m talking about,” he replied, all facade of friendly appearances dropping, “I helped develop this magic when I was still his apprentice. It was all theory, Alexius could never get it to work. What I don’t understand is why he’d do it, ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?”

”He didn’t do it for them,” Felix’s voice cut through our conversation, referring to the mages. He explained that his father had joined a Tevinter cult called the Venatori, specifically to get to me.

Right then and there I was ready to drop my sword, mount a Hart, throw my hands in the air, and be done with this whole insane affair. No one said there would be Tevinters. Demons, okay, political squabbles, okay, religious zealots, all right. But the image of me being dragged into a country that would sacrifice me for blood magic, or worse, keep me alive in chains never to feel grass on my bare feet again made my skin crawl. I pinched the bridge of my nose to prevent a headache while we discussed it.

Obsessed with me? Because I could close the Rifts? They could take their damned mark back for all I cared, I wasn’t doing ANY of this for ME. However, once again everyone in the room looked at me with such.... desperation. Felix knew what his father was doing was madness and that I could be the savior. Again.

”All this for me,” I said sarcastically, simply sick of the obligations incessantly dropped on my shoulders, “and I didn’t get Alexius anything.”

I thought I saw a faint smile flash across Dorian’s lips at that, not that I was looking. Fucking Tevinters.

”Alexius doesn’t know I’m in Redcliffe and I’d like to keep it that way,” he told us as he turned to leave.

’Good,’ I thought, ‘Good riddance’.

”But when you do face him, I’d love to be there. Oh and Felix,” he turned toward us one last time, “Try not to get yourself killed.”

”There are worse things than dying, Dorian,” is all that Felix offered in response.

As we walked back out the gates of Redcliffe village, my face was stern, as were Solas’ and Cassandra’s. Even Varric had no witty remarks on the whole situation.

Dorian of House Pavus. Most recently of Minrathous. May the Dread Wolf take him.


	2. The Hinterlands Healer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers & hopefully new friends! I’m very excited to finally be on this site, I’ve been writing this fic for a bit now and can’t wait to hear your thoughts. Thanks for stopping by.

While passing back through the Crossroads the healer there told me of an ingredient she needed for the more advanced draughts. Some of the refugees were badly wounded and Elfroot alone wasn’t working. Crystal Grace, she’d told us, a relatively rare type of flower that grew in bunches. It would be blue, she’d told me.

I wasn’t ready to return to the War Table in Haven so I told the healer I’d begin the search straight away. Cassandra insisted it was urgent that we discuss what had happened in Redcliffe with Josephine, Cullen, and Leliana, but I insisted that if we made the villagers wait they would not be here when we returned. She relented.

My mood was sour. It only grew more sour the longer we failed to find these flowers. Elfroot and Embrium aplenty, but no Crystal Grace yet.

We searched to no avail until nightfall and we camped by the lake, taking a respite to resume our hunt in the morning. I sat by the fire, sharpening my blade. Dorian. Dorian. The name wouldn’t leave me. The FACE wouldn’t leave me. Dorian, my mind would say every time I ran the whetstone across my blade. Dorian, and then I’d picture his stupid, perfect body. Dorian, whose voice twinkled and lilted as he explained that Alexius and this Mage alliance was probably going to lead me to my death. Dorian whose neck was thick and well muscled and I wonder if he tasted like.... “Shit,” I grunted as the whetstone slipped and I nearly sliced my arm open.

I gave up on my sword with a huff and resigned myself to brooding. Iron Bull had thrown a few raunchy comments my way on the Storm Coast and right now I was wishing he were here. I’d take him into my tent and let him fuck me until that damn Tevinter’s image was shaken from my head. I was sure it was a task he could accomplish. I was not sure whether my body would be crushed beneath the weight of his massive size, but honestly I’d have welcomed that at the present time.

Time. Time magic. Dorian. Fenedhis. He was consuming my every thought. By the Gods this had to stop. I pondered to myself, fixing my gaze on the flames, sword still laying across my lap. I supposed if any Tevinter were to have me in chains he wouldn’t be the worst choice, but the thought still made me nauseous. And what a curiosity I’d be among the City Elves, with my Vallaslin and my Dalish phrases. At least, perhaps, I could manage to lead another slave rebellion, not that the previous ones had worked out so well for those slaves.

I stood, sighed, sheathed my sword, and walked to my tent to try to sleep. I knew it wouldn’t happen, but the Inquisition soldiers were starting to stare and I thought I heard Cassandra and Solas whispering around the corner of another tent. ‘Is the Herald losing his mind?’ they must be asking themselves.

The short answer? Absolutely.

I laid atop my bedroll, jaw set in a hard line, staring at the ceiling of the Human tent that encased me. I would attempt to close my eyes and sleep but when I did I saw Dorian or Alexius or the merchants of my childhood nightmares come to steal me from my clan.

I was tired, sore, and it had been far too long since I’d had any kind of release. I was tempted to go slip into Cassandra’s tent and seduce her just to distract myself, but that would be cruel. I wouldn’t shame her so and in such dire circumstances I can’t imagine she, of all people, was thinking about getting her rocks off.

I stood up, I paced, I laid back down, I tossed and turned, I repeated. There were people who worshipped me, ha! The chosen of Andraste couldn’t sleep because he was equal measures horny and afraid. This was what those people didn’t understand, I was still just a man. Marked or not, just a man, not sure why any of this had become my business but now that it was, just trying to navigate the madness as best I could.

By now the camp was quiet and I slipped out of my tent, alone, bare foot, unarmored. I walked. I wandered until I could no longer see the fire burning for the night watchmen. I paid no mind to the creatures of the forest and it comforted me to be alone with the trees and stars for the first time in a long while. I climbed, I wanted to sit among the branches and foliage as I had when I was a young man. Leaning my head back against the bark I felt comforted, breathing in the aroma of the fertile soil below I felt at home, even in this unfamiliar land. The air was brisk but not chilled and it felt cleansing to my lungs, cleansing to my mind. I closed my eyes and there was nothing to fear. I drifted off to sleep twenty feet above the ground, knowing I would not fall.

When daylight broke the sky I awoke, looking up at the Breach. We needed those mages. My brows drew together, was I a warrior or not? Was I still a cowering young boy afraid of a few soft, round ears? Alexius would not get away with this. Dorian delivered us the truth, and for that at least, I guess we owed him. As I scaled back down out of my tree I caught a flash of blue growing just across the grove. I smiled, Crystal Grace. I harvested the whole bunch, should be plenty for the healer, then walked back toward camp with a renewed sense of duty. 

Cassandra’s face flushed with relief at the sight of me. After what I must have looked like by the fire last night and finding my tent empty this morning, she probably thought I had ridden off to flee the Inquisition altogether. I showed her my flowers as though they were the reason I’d left camp.

“I’m sorry, they’re not for you,” I managed a joke although my deep and serious voice probably did not allow the best delivery, “We’ll head back to the crossroads, drop these with the healer, and then we can take some of Dennet’s horses and ride hard back to Haven.”

At that, she smiled and gave me one nod of agreement.


	3. The Ride to Redcliffe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’ll notice as you read that I try to keep a lot of original dialogue from the game in my story, but sometimes I need to rework the timing of it for it to make sense. You can’t have dialogue with Dorian until AFTER the events of Redcliffe and some of it makes more sense before or during.

Around the War Table back in Haven the Inquisition had received word from Magister Alexius. Cullen seemed to favor giving up on an alliance with the mages and contacting the Templars. Now that I had seen Redcliffe, I agreed with him that assaulting the fortress seemed, well, suicidal.

Cassandra was worried about Tevinter controlling the mages, while he seemed more concerned about losing me, more specifically, losing the Mark.

Josephine was worried about the politics.

“There is another way in,” Leliana spoke up, “a secret passage, built as an escape route for the family. Too narrow for our troops but we could send agents through.”

“Too risky,” replied Cullen, “those agents would be discovered long before they reached the Magister.”

“That’s why we need a distraction. Perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly,” Leliana’s schemes always were a stroke of genius, I had to admit, even if right now her scheme was to use me as bait. Tevinter bait. 

“While they’re focused on Lavellan, we break the Magister’s defenses,” Cullen said, mulling it over, “It could work but it’s a huge risk.”

The door to the chamber opened and I caught the scent of his cologne before I even laid eyes on him or heard him speak. I’d know that scent anywhere.

“Fortunately, you’ll have help,” Dorian was back. What an entirely unpleasant surprise.

“This man says he has information about the Magister and his methods, Commander,” an Inquisition soldier addressed Cullen.

Cullen just turned his gaze towards Dorian. Of course we’d told him all about the unknown mage, and Cassandra had made enough of a scene about distrusting him for the both of us. I was glad for that, I hardly wanted to admit my distrust was, erm, of the Elvhen origin. It felt natural but sounded juvenile.

“Those agents will never get through without my help,” Dorian stated confidently, “So if you’re going after him, I’m coming along.”

I hoped my expression at that sentiment went unnoticed. I was almost certain it did given that Dorian was commanding the attention of the room, arrogant Human that he was. Cullen turned toward me.

“The plan would put you in the most danger,” he warned, “We can’t, in good conscience, order you to do this. We can still go to the Templars if you’d rather not play the bait. It’s up to you.”

Did I want to play the bait? Of course not. Did I want to play the bait with a Tevinter as my backup? Laughable. 

But elves were already enslaved in Orlais and Ferelden even though it was technically illegal. I didn’t want Tevinter gaining any foothold this far south. Every Dalish clan across the continent would be endangered if the Magister’s actions were allowed to stand. I wouldn’t have it. I would not look back on this moment in twenty years and say I could have done something to stop it and did not take the initiative.

So bait it was.

We arranged the envoy with Alexius at the soonest possible opportunity, but the ride back to Redcliffe would still take at least a day, and Leliana had to organize her spies. There was time to get things settled before we set out. The small house in Haven across from the one Solas resided in stood empty, so it was given to Dorian as his quarters. Leliana had an agent on him as well, Cassandra hadn’t even needed to pressure her about it. That made me feel safer, if not by the smallest possible increment.

Solas would not be joining us in Redcliffe, he spent much of his time researching and presumably dreamwalking through the Fade looking for any information that would help our cause. There was something odd about him that I could not discern. I never sensed he was lying to me as I did with others, but I often felt as though his words were carefully chosen and not everything he knew was being said. 

I had just been prodding him more about the Fade, extracting as much detail as I could get out of him before he returned to his solitude once more, when I heard Dorian across the way.

“Herald,” he beckoned me. I considered ignoring him. I was not one of his elf slaves to be summoned on a whim. However, we were going to have to work together to defeat Alexius and I thought it in bad taste to turn my back on him. I had more honor than that, surely.

“Yes?” I said walking over to him.

“I never did catch your name,” he said. “I’d like to call you something other than ‘Herald of Andraste’, that’s quite a mouthful.”

‘Oh I’ll give you a mouthful,’ I thought combatively. 

“Amheotil Lavellan,” is what I said out loud.

“So I take it you’re... Dalish? Is that the correct word here?”

Really? That was where he was going to start? I couldn’t believe it. Nor could I let it slip past me.

“Would you prefer the term ‘slave’?” I shot back, harsh and immediate.

He looked wounded at that. Good.  
“I hope this won’t be an issue between us,” he sounded sincere enough. “I am here to help with the Venatori, after all.”

“As long as you give me no cause to make it an issue,” I replied curtly.

“Understood.”

I walked away then, uninterested in what else he might have had to say or if that was the only question he’d called me over to ask. I still had things to attend to before we mounted up for the journey to the Hinterlands, such as asking Varric if he was willing to stand with Cassandra and me as bait for the Magister. The dwarf, being the true friend I now came to see him as, agreed.

A day later, the journey began. Cassandra lead the group and I took up the rear. I was glad of it, on horseback you had to keep your eyes forward, and I didn’t want anyone asking about my grim expression. Varric and Dorian, both being quite talkative fellows, fell into stride next to each other.  
I hardly noticed what they talked about, I was distracted by Dorian’s one bare arm, it taunted me with its perfection, the sunlight casting shadows defining each rippling muscle. I narrowed my eyes at the back of his head. So this is what he looks like from behind, huh? I bet I knew a few tricks that would take the smirk right off of his unnaturally handsome face.

No. Stop. Stop picturing... that. I reminded myself that I despised the man in the first place and that an erection in the saddle was uncomfortable to say the least.  
I spurred my horse forward to ride next to Cassandra. At least we could be overly serious together.

“Varric, take the rear,” I requested.

“But I so preferred you handling my rear,” Dorian remarked. I nearly fell off my horse. Was he.... flirting with me?

The gall. The absolute, irreverent, audacity. I decided I would kill him when this was over. I was also flattered, blushing, half hard in my breeches, and entirely willing to forgive his heritage to take him right here on horseback. 

Yes, I would kill him him when this was all over.


	4. After Redcliffe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I skipped over re hashing the quest which we’ve all played through and assumed my Lavellan asked his questions about Tevinter while he and Dorian were running in circles around the dungeons. This chapter deals more with the aftermath of being sent into the future.

A week later I was having new nightmares. Always back in that dreadful future where I watched my friends die. For me.

Cassandra, steadfast in her duty until the bitter end. I saw her lifeless body fall through the doors as the demon horde forced their way through. Leliana, the epitome of bravery as she sacrificed herself so we could make it back through the Rift. Varric. Varric who could have been playing Wicked Grace in a tavern in Kirkwall if he’d had a mind to do so. Varric, who had no obligation to stay with the Inquisition at all, let alone follow me into a trap.

They had all suffered for an entire year. They all gave their lives to make it right.

And yet, they were all here, safe in Haven. It felt impossible.

Dorian was still here too.

By the Gods, of all the people to be in that situation with. At first I’d thought that was all part of the trap. Sneak him in as a spy, then separate me from my allies and get me alone with him so he could finish me off. Standing waist deep in water, surrounded by Red Lyrium growing out of the damned walls, my first thought was that he had betrayed us all.

Then I had remembered Alexius’ words in the throne room. “You had the chance to join us and you said ‘No’”. He’d said that to Dorian.

Dorian had called Alexius’ plan ‘exactly what he never wanted to happen’.

He was the one who had worked out what was going on. He had been the one who could fix it and get us home. He had saved my life. And Cassandra’s and Varric’s and Leliana’s and.... well.... the entire world.

In those dungeons, Dorian proved his worth. He proved where his loyalties lay. While we had fumbled around that dank maze of stone halls I had asked him about Tevinter. I needed to understand what it was really like there to be able to understand how all of this had come to pass. He had expressed a great disdain for the governance of his homeland, and even for his family itself. 

It shamed me afterwards that I had judged him so harshly without knowing. It comforted me that here, back in the present, I wasn’t the only one who’d seen that horrific future and remembered it. It pleased me Dorian had decided to join the Inquisition, that now I had a chance to know the man that he was, not the man I had assumed him to be.

I threw myself wholeheartedly into the Inquisition now. For however much the title of Herald irked me, it was inconsequential. I had seen what we were really fighting. I knew that if we lost this war against the Elder One, nothing and no one would survive. I think Dorian stayed because he knew that as well. And, of course, the mages had also joined us in Haven.

I invited them into the fold as equals. I, as an elf, as a man, and as a living being, could not ask anyone to live a life in shackles. The mages had fought so hard for their freedom, I could not march them back to Haven like prisoners. Cullen and Vivienne were less than pleased with it, knowing the dangers of a corrupted mage. Sera was terrified of magic, I could tell, but she hid behind her humor and cheeky smile and handed out blankets to the new arrivals all the same. Bull stood, watching as they had flooded through the gates, with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. He had mages in the Chargers and did not follow the Qun, so I knew it was just a show of intimidation. A warning that the mages had best keep their shit together lest they face off against the most intimidating figure they were ever likely to see. The looks on their faces that day had indicated that his tactic was working.

The following days had been... chaotic. Getting the mages settled in and everything that went along with it. “Glad I got this house before the rush,” Dorian had laughed. Going over every sordid detail of our experience in the future with just about everyone. Telling the tale over and over to analyze what our next steps should be. It was taxing to say the least.

Now things were settling down, but my sleep was still troubled. I had wanted to go back for Leliana. I had so desperately wanted to, but Dorian had been right, the only way to save her in Redcliffe was to watch her die. And I did. 

When Dalish hunters learned as children, we learned we could not look away. If we flinched, the arrow would not fly straight. If we wished to honor our kill, we had to bear witness to it. And so I bore witness to her being torn apart, ten feet from Cassandra’s limp body, Varric dead somewhere in the hall, obscured by the legion of demons. I saw it all. And it haunted me at night.

But it also strengthened my resolve. To honor our kill, we could not look away. And to honor my friend’s sacrifice and suffering, I could not let it happen again.

Tonight I decided I would not even bother closing my eyes. I knew that sleep would not take me, but perhaps wine could. I put a tunic on over my small clothes and headed to Flissa’s. Sera was there, as always, piss drunk with Bull. He was proposing a battle strategy in which he might throw her over enemy lines to start firing arrows at them from behind. She was having none of it.

“You and Varric are the only ones small enough for it to work,” he insisted, “And he’s.... dense.”

“Start doing presses then,” she laughed.

By the look of him, I’d say he did plenty. I smiled, I was so glad they were alive. I was so glad to be here, in this exact moment. It certainly beat lying in bed alone with my anxiety.

I got my goblet of wine, leaving my customary coin on the bar when Flissa wasn’t looking, and saw that Dorian was brooding in the corner. I had never seen Dorian brood. That was more my area of expertise. He was sitting by himself, staring at his cup.

I heard Bull let out a hearty, booming laugh as Sera recounted the tale of stealing the breeches from the armory outside of Val Royeux. I decided then that I preferred quieter company tonight and walked over to where the winsome mage sat.

“May I?” I asked, gesturing to the chair across from him.

It was something of a transformation to see the mask of a smile return to Dorian’s face. What could be troubling him that he felt he had to hide? I wasn’t going to pry.

“The Herald of Andraste shouldn’t have to ask,” he declared. I took that as a yes and sat down, taking a big swig of my wine, which wasn’t terrible.

“Watch out, the wine is terrible,” he warned.

“Maybe to a Tevinter,” I teased, “It’ll do for a commoner like me.”

He chuckled at that. “So, the Inquisition supports free mages? What’s next? Elves running Halamshiral? Cows milking farmers?”

“Everyone deserves their freedom, Dorian,” I said to him. 

At that I thought I saw his eyes drift towards my ears, truly seeing me as an elf rather than the Herald of Andraste, perhaps for the first time. When I had questioned him about owning slaves, he had responded that his family treated theirs well and he had never thought much about it. It was all he had ever known, as it was for the slaves as well. Was I making him question it? I could only hope so.

“The Inquisition is seen as an authority. You’ve given Southern mages a license to be.... well, like mages back home,” was all he said.

The thought repulsed me on instinct. The mages of Tevinter were willing to sacrifice a slave for blood rituals. The free mages in our company... well half of them WERE elves, I didn’t see them being like the mages of Dorian’s homeland at all. Then again, Dorian was not like anything I’d heard about the mages of his homeland either.

“That doesn’t bother me,” I said, “as long as they’re like you.”

He cocked an eyebrow at me.  
“There aren’t any mages back home like me,” he smirked back.

“I believe you,” I said and I meant it.

“I never fit in,” he went on, “Blood stains are so hard to clean, you see.”

A blood magic joke was not in the best of taste considering it was the blood of my people being used, but I understood it to be more a jab at Tevinter itself than something meant to hurt me. I let it go and smiled and drank more of my wine.

“I’m empty,” he noted, shaking his cup. “Would you like another?”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” I feigned suspicion.

“Ah, my good Herald, I am trying to get ME drunk, what happens to you is of little consequence.”

I actually shared that sentiment this evening, so I drained my cup and pushed it over to him. “Then yes. I would.”

As he rose to refill our goblets I was once again enticed by the scent of him. Was it a type of magic that made this man smell so divine all of the time? I couldn’t fathom it. The rest of Haven smelled... well.... like Haven. Sweat, dirt, straw, the stables. There was no aspect of him that wasn’t ever so slightly above all the rest of us. Probably why he had such an ego.

He returned to his seat and passed me my wine.

“A Tevinter serving an elf,” he pointed out with a knowing glance at me, “imagine the scandal it would cause in the Magisterium.”

I gave him a wry half a smile. Had he done that on purpose? For my benefit? He might well have done. It certainly made me.... comfortable.

And so we drank. He resumed questioning me about the Dalish. Questions even the Humans of the Free Marches had never cared to ask. Did I speak Elvhen? What was the history of the Vallaslin on my face? What God did MY Vallaslin represent? Who chose it for me? Was my clan amenable to trade with Humans and Dwarves? Did I live in a tree back home?

His curiosity knew no bounds. He had never met a Dalish before. The more we drank the more I opened up. It was not customary for the Dalish to reveal much of their culture, to a Tevinter no less, but the casual nature of his interest felt like camaraderie rather than interrogation. And fortunately, I didn’t consider only the Dalish to be my people. I saw the city elves as my kin as well. Their welfare mattered to me just as much. That thinking, as well as my skill and strength, was what had prompted me to be chosen to be sent to the Conclave. I told that to Dorian too.

“It seems we’re both oddities among our own people,” he asserted.

“I suppose you’re right,” I agreed.

At this point we’d each had at least four pours of wine. Or was it five? Six? I did not know. We were left practically alone in the Tavern. Sera was sleeping under a table by the window. Bull had retired to his tent with a local soldier some time ago. I imagined that more alcohol than blood was running through my veins right now.

“I think it’s time I turned in,” I said, finishing the last dregs of liquid in my cup.

“Are you positive you’ll make it all the way there?” Dorian asked. I was not sure if this was some kind of proposition to return to his little house with him, and even if it was, I was not sure that I would be any good to him this drunk. I was not even sure if Dorian was attracted to men.

“I’ll try my best,” I responded, “though if you can’t find me tomorrow, check the alleyways.”

Wine had a way of removing my seriousness to reveal that I could, in fact, crack a joke. He laughed, finished his own drink, and we walked, or rather stumbled, towards the door together where we parted ways.

The wine worked. For the first time since Redcliffe I slept through the night, what little remained of it, and it was hazy, but I do believe I dreamt of skin the color of sweet clover honey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorian seems like he’s fascinated by the elves, being that their history is so closely intertwined with Tevinter’s. I imagine he’d be really interested in Dalish customs.


	5. Elfroot For Hangovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think Elfroot works like mint or cocaine leaves, the original form of consumption was just to chew on them.

I awoke rested, albeit very hungover. My stomach gurgled in... protest? Hunger? To eat or not to eat, that was the pressing question. And what did I have to eat? In my pack there were dried strips of ram meat, a few stalks of slowly wilting Elfroot, and a chunk of hard cheese wrapped in a strip of cotton fabric.

Looking at the jerky and cheese my stomach turned over once more. Definitely a protest to the idea. I took a few of the Elfroot leaves and popped them in my mouth. There was a reason it was used in almost every healer’s tent across Thedas. It would work to dull the throbbing in my head for the time being.

If I’d had to wager a guess I’d have thought it was nearing midday, though the Breach made the sky a bit hard to read. I had to speak with Cullen and Fiona about the mages, were they ready to march on that thing yet?

I passed Sera on the trail to the training yard and wondered what time she woke up, or if she needed any Elfroot. She and I were quite friendly, both bearing no love for nobles and of entirely common birth. Not to mention the tips of our ears, but that part didn’t matter to her. She was brash and loud, sure, but I felt more at home in her company than I did with most of the folks who thought I was a savior sent by the Maker.

“Saw you in the corner with Dorian last night, yeah?” she said it like it was a question.

“And?” I cocked an eyebrow at her.

“He’s fun,” she said, “Could stand to lose a bit more Tevinter.”

“Heh,” I did not disagree.

She waited a moment, clearly waiting for details that I did not think were important enough to mention before announcing, “Right well I’ve got important things to do,” and then walking off.

I shook my head but there was a smile on my face. Everyone else might have thought Sera was nugshit crazy, but I often said to myself that she could be the only one making any sense around here. Her incredible talent with a bow and compassion for refugees and servants made her a huge asset to our forces by my standards. I was sorry to have had to stress her out by having so many mages around, in truth this camp sometimes felt like a powder keg.

Especially if the mages and Templars started bickering.

Cullen and Fiona worked well together though. They each respected the Inquisition’s need for one another. They both believed we were all ready. We would march on the Breach the next day.


	6. In My Heart Shall Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only one thing about this quest didn’t make sense: how does your party escape during the battle? So don’t mind that I wrote it in

The Breach was closed. I could hardly believe it. I did that. If you had asked me what outcome I would have expected when I mounted my Dalish All Bred and left my clan en route to the Conclave, this was... uhm.... not on the list. How could anyone possibly have expected this?

And how could anyone possibly have expected that in such a short time we’d all be standing in Haven with Mages and Templars celebrating. Together. A shared victory.

Sera was riding around on Bull’s shoulders. Vivienne and Fiona, the Circle Mage and the Apostate, were catching up over a cup of wine, Vivienne was even managing to contain the condescension in her voice, appearing almost friendly. 

Varric was recanting his experience of the day the Breach had first appeared, gesturing over the fire, adding flare as no one but he was capable of. Cassandra was across the flames, rolling her eyes and beaming a smile in turns as the story went on. Blackwall, dutiful as ever, had collected damaged armor and taken it down to the smithy for repairs.

“Can’t have our forces looking like a mob of peasants,” he’d said. Ironically, that’s almost exactly what we were. A mob of peasants, heathens according to some, who had just healed the wound in the sky.

Of course, Blackwall was right, we still had to unmask the “Elder One” he’d heard about from our venture forward in time. This day had been a triumph, but the war was not over.  
That’s why Cullen and Leliana were smiling, but not celebrating as the rest of them were.

And then, a knocking at the gates. A boy telling us of “Red Templars” making their way toward Haven. Lead by the Elder One.

“Give me a plan Cullen,” I deferred to him, “Anything.”

We sounded the alarm, everyone hastily went to arms. Fin’Dalin have mercy, some of them didn’t even have their armor. Cassandra and Varric were at my side in moments. Solas appeared from wherever he’d been hiding, a grim expression on his face and a staff in his hand.  
Cullen had decided to use the trebuchets, soldiers were already working to load and fire the first one, all we had to do was keep the enemy’s forces off of them long enough to get that done. We battled strange abominations, Varric noting the Red Lyrium that seemed to be growing from them, it brought me back to the nightmarish dungeon I’d been trapped in with Dorian.

Dorian. I’d not seen him around the festivities. He was a powerful mage, I was sure he could protect himself. I didn’t know where Sera had gone either, but she was agile, she could escape anything. And surely The Iron Bull and the Chargers were defending our people.

I couldn’t focus on my worry, anyhow, Varric was on the ground, Cassandra rushing in to help him up behind the safety of her shield. I drove my sword through spine of the Templar attacking them, and heard the first trebuchet launch. 

A soldier was running towards us shouting that the second was suffering a mechanical failure. We took off in the direction she’d come from.

We reached the barricade on which it stood and got to work. I pulled myself onto the trebuchet to see what was wrong with it, my arms were so tired already. From where I stood on the platform I could see a monstrous Red Lyrium creature was moving in from our flank, about to strike a blow against Solas who was conjuring a wall of ice between all of us and three Red Templar knights. I leapt down, put my full weight behind my shield, and slammed into the creature with all the weight of my body, knocking it off its feet. Cassandra immediately got in between me and my opponent to take over the fight so I could finish my work, Varric still firing bolts into the helmets of the Templars trapped by Solas’ ice.

It was utter chaos.

I climbed back onto the platform and turned the winch by hand, groaning with the effort. I was exhausted, covered in sweat and ash and blood. But pain meant I was alive. Pain was better than death. I turned the winch again.

I heard the trebuchet lock into place and with Cassandra defending us, Solas, Varric, and I loaded it. We launched and struck a direct hit to the mountain, unleashing a mighty avalanche and burying the enemy forces in the valley that had not yet reached the gates. The soldiers cheered and Varric clapped me on the back.

The success was fleeting. The trebuchet abruptly erupted in a spray of cinders and splinters, sending us all hurtling backwards and onto the ground. A fucking dragon? Fenhedis Lasa, a FUCKING DRAGON?

We all staggered back to our feet, those of us that were still alive. A soldier lay dead with a thick piece of wood through his neck.

“We can’t face it here,” Cassandra was panting, voice hoarse with smoke and fatigue, “We have to do... something.”

“Everyone to the gates,” I said, we needed Cullen. We needed the Knight Commander.

The dragon soared overhead as we rushed back down the pathway. Cullen was ushering people through the gate. “Move it!” he shouted, looking relieved to see the four of us still standing

“We need everyone back to the Chantry. It’s the only building that might hold against that beast,” he said once the gates were closed. He turned to us, face darkened by the dire circumstances, and added “At this point, just make them work for it.”

He thought we were all going to die.  
People were screaming, Haven was on fire. I found Minaeve unconscious, surrounded by charred rubble. I shook her awake and directed her to the chantry. I could hear cries for help from inside the Tavern, Flissa was trapped beneath one collapsed beam and another was about to crush her. I pulled it off of her enough for Cassandra to drag her out, my hands searing on the smoldering wood. Dorian’s tiny house was being entirely consumed by flames, I could not tell whether or not anyone had been inside.

All the while we battled demons, monsters, and Templars. My body cried in agony, I expected I’d be black and blue for a week, if I survived.

We made it into the Chantry and Roderick was being helped up by the same young man who’d appeared at the gates to warn us.

“The knife cut deep, he’s going to die,” said the boy.

“Such a charming young man,” Roderick said.

Cullen rushed over to me. “Our position is not good, that dragon stole back any time you might have earned us,” he stated. “There has been no communication, no demands, only advance after advance.”

The boy, whose name I understood to be Cole, told us gravely that the Elder One was here for me, specifically. He wanted the Mark on my hand.

Cullen expressed that the only way to defeat the horde at our doorstep was to turn the last remaining trebuchet toward the mountains above us and bury the entire town of Haven in a wave of snow and ice. All of these people? There had to be something else.

“There’s no surviving this now, but we can choose how we die. It is not a choice many get to make,” he lamented. I took his meaning, breathing hard from exertion. 

I looked around the chamber, hopelessly. I didn’t have any better ideas. Our best luck would be that in our last ditch attempt the Elder One might be buried along with us. It wasn’t much reassurance.

“There is a path,” Roderick sputtered from his chair. “You wouldn’t know it unless you’d made the summer pilgrimage, as I have. The people CAN escape.”

Not such a prick after all, that man.

“Inquisition,” Cullen addressed the ragged group of survivors in the hall, “follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry. Move!” 

He sent a few soldiers out to load the trebuchet. I was to serve as a distraction. This Elder One wanted me. I looked at Varric and Cassandra. Sera and Bull. Vivienne and Fiona. Leliana. And then I saw him at the back of the chamber, Dorian was alive, though I could not tell if it was his own blood or someone else’s smeared on his face. There was no time for goodbyes with any of them.

“If you we are to have a chance, if YOU are to have a chance,” Cullen addressed me, “Let that thing hear you.”

I insisted Solas go with the rest, no one knew more about the Fade than he, if I was lost he was the only one with any hope of finding another way to close the Rifts. I could not convince Cassandra and Varric to do the same.

“If there’s one thing I know Lavellan,” smiled Varric, “It’s how to get an asshole’s attention.”

I laughed with him for probably the last time in my life.

Before we stepped back into the courtyard I could see Dorian and Sera looking back at me from the entrance to the tunnels. I gave them a nod. ‘Go’ it said. ‘Live’.

Cassandra and Varric saw me down the path to our last hope of turning the tide of the battle. They defended me as I turned the trebuchet to face the mountaintop to the North. The soldiers ahead of us had gotten it loaded and turned partway before they fell. When it was ready to fire I told my friends to go back to the Chantry and catch up with Cullen. They looked mournful to leave me, but it was not a request. Varric clasped my hand. My friend. Cassandra, stone-faced, told me it had been an honor and wished me luck. I returned the sentiment and shouted at them to go. Together, I had faith they could make it out.

I would wait here for the signal that my people had cleared the pass. It sank in then that they really were my people. My clan would have called them Shemlen, but I seemed to be less and less Dalish with each passing day. I found myself hoping I would get to tell Sera that, she’d like to hear it. If you’d told me before I’d left home that I’d stand ready and willing to die for a Chantry Seeker I would have laughed.

I heard a screech above me and looked up to see the dragon making another pass. I tried to get out of the way of it’s mighty breath but I couldn’t. Was that even fire? It knocked me off my feet and my back slammed into the ground, knocking the air clean from my lungs. I layed there a moment, energy depleted, spine tingling, imagining that I did not have to get back up.

But everything around me was burning, and somewhere inside me the will to live still sounded. Besides, I was a warrior, I should have liked to die on my feet. I mustered the energy to roll onto my side, pressing my palm into my forehead to try and clear the ringing out of my ears. That’s when I saw him. It. The Elder One. He had to have been a full four feet taller than me with an emaciated body and Red Lyrium growing from his twisted face.

I pulled my knees underneath me and pushed myself back to standing, but could not see my weapons anywhere. The massive dragon, seemingly deformed from its corruption, landed behind me, blocking any chance of escape I might have had.

Corypheus, he revealed his name.

“I am here for the Anchor,” his mangled voice grated out, “The process of removing it begins now.”

The orb he was carrying started to glow, as did the mark on my hand. I grit my teeth together as my hand started to burn, the sensation traveling up to my elbow. It seemed to be pulling toward his magic. He turned his hand and the pain exploded, the force of the magnetic attraction growing stronger. I held my left arm with my right hand to keep from being pulled off my feet. Gods, the pain was brutal.

And then he closed his fist and my mark burned with the same red magic he wielded. It seared up the my shoulder, throbbing unbearably. I sank to my knees, tears threatening to spring from my eyes. I growled to keep from screaming.

He approached me and lifted me clean off the ground by my wrist. My shield arm. Already sore from the battle it now threatened to dislocate from its socket. He was still blathering on about being a God when he flung me through the air, for the second time I had the wind stolen from me as my back hit the wooden beams of the trebuchet. I was going to die. My spine must be broken. But there was a sword lying there and I took it in hand, at least they could say I perished with a sword in my hand. And on my feet, I thought to myself as I forced my wrecked body to stand, spine intact after all.

Then, in the distance, I saw a ball of flame light the sky. The Inquisition was clear of the pass. This Corypheus was a fool, I realized, he had put me exactly where I needed to be. I told him to fuck himself, kicked the triggering mechanism, and started running, leaping off the platform and over the barricade as the avalanche cascaded down onto Haven. The corrupted dragon lifted Corypheus off the ground and out of harm’s way, I fell into a cavern beneath the Chantry.

I don’t know how long I lay there, barely conscious, before I found the will to get up. I could barely walk, certain that at least a few of my ribs were broken. I was freezing but I was alive... Andraste’s ass, how had I managed that? A small voice reminded me I would not stay that way if I didn’t move, it sounded like the Hahren who’d trained us as children. And so I moved, one wretched foot at a time, out of the cave and up the mountain pass, the snow sometimes reaching my waist in places I had just buried.

I could see next to nothing. I could hear only the wind howling in my ears. Soon enough I wasn’t even in pain, I was simply numb. But I kept fighting my way upward. I don’t know how long it took, but when I smelled smoke coming from a recent campfire I followed it. As the black tunnel around my vision started to close in and take me I thought I heard a voice.

“It’s him!”

“He’s returned!”

“Thank the Maker!”

I fell to my knees and succumbed to the darkness.


	7. Skyhold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay folks, I have a LOT of questions about the aftermath of Haven. First, the camp in the mountains is wayyyy to well set up for it to have only been a few hours. Like, who carried a table up there while they were ESCAPING? Second, Corypheus tells you his name before you get tossed in a hole but when you wake up everyone knows it? And does Solas sleep on that couch in his study or does he have a room somewhere?

I didn’t know how long I slept. I awoke to a darkened sky, though how many had passed me by I could not say. It was a fitful sleep, there were times I could hear voices arguing but seemed unable to speak or even to open my eyes, and then I would return to oblivion, only to rise again to hear new voices around me.

It carried on like that until I finally felt strong enough to raise my head and lean on an elbow. Every inch of me ached. Even my mind seemed to be in pain, hazy and throbbing. Mother Giselle was there.

“You need to rest,” she spoke softly.

“They’ve been around it for hours.” Days? The camp seemed too well established for it to have been the same night as the attack. I directed my gaze towards Cullen, Josephine, Leliana, and Cassandra around the fire. I was glad to see they all lived. 

Especially knowing that if Cassandra had gotten back through the Chantry, Varric was almost definitely alive here as well.

“They have that luxury thanks to you,” she replied. “The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt they turn to blame. Infighting could threaten us as much as this Corypheus.”

I wondered how she knew the name. Maybe I was talking in my sleep? Maybe a concussion had stolen some of my memory. Upon hearing the name I remembered him flying off on that mangled dragon. We weren’t safe out in the open like this.

“Do we know where Corypheus and his forces are?” I asked.

“We are not sure where WE are,” was the answer I was given. “There is no sign of him, that or you are believed to be dead. Without Haven the Inquisition is believed helpless or he girds for another attack. I cannot claim to know the mind of that.... creature.”

Then she started in with what you’d expect from a Chantry sister. I, their great Defender, stood, fell, and miraculously returned. As if guided by Andraste. As if the Maker had this all neatly planned. The people were already singing the tale of my heroism and how it must have been ordained. I had to admit it seemed impossible that I’d lived, I’d seen fellow warriors fall to less dire circumstances. However, I was trained to fight, and that was all I’d done. No God was there to help me. If it was anyone, it was Mythal, but I had not seen her.

“Mother Giselle,” I started, still so tired, “I just don’t see how what I believe matters. Lies or truth, Corypheus is a real, physical threat. We can’t match that with hope alone.”

With that and a wince, I rose to my feet to speak with my comrades. I leaned on the support of the tent for a moment, lightheaded and testing my sore and sorry legs. I got my bearings and glanced around. The arguments had ceased for a moment. Leliana sat with her face in her hands by the fire. Josephine behind her staring into the flames. Cullen brooding with his arms crossed. Cassandra fidgeting over a map.

Then I heard a voice. Mother Giselle was singing what I could only assume was the Chant of Light. People looked up at the sound. And what they saw was me, standing, alive. Back from the brink of death. Again.

Leliana was the first to join in the song, her faith was strong, I knew. Soon, the entire camp was singing, harmonizing. It was strangely beautiful and beautifully strange. They were... worshipping. A Dalish elf. If my ribs hadn’t hurt so bad I might have laughed. I must have been the only one who did not know the song. I thought I even saw Dorian standing among the crowd.

“An army needs more than an enemy, it needs a cause,” whispered Mother Giselle.

Solas tapped me lightly on the shoulder.

“A word,” he said, leading me away from camp where he lit a veilfire brazier.

“None of our people have been raised so high in a long time,” he said. Now we were of the same people? Days ago he’d still held contempt for the Dalish.

He explained to me that the strange orb Corypheus carried was of Elvhen origin. How did he know about the orb? Had I really blacked out so much as to tell the story of my encounter with Corypheus and then forget recounting the tale?

“They’ll find a way to blame elves eventually,” I said. “They always do.”

He smiled at that a little. He said he knew of a place where we could be safe. I imagined he’d either visited it in his travels exploring old ruins or seen it in the Fade. Skyhold, he called it. And so I trusted his advice and we scouted to the North.

He had not mentioned it would be such a massive fortress, capable of housing a fully equipped army.

When we finally did find it there was a lot of work to do, but it was more than adequate for what was left of us. We’d lost many and more at the battle for Haven, but now we could look forward.

Cassandra ambushed me by the gates and started speaking of leadership, coaxing me up the stairs to see all of our people in the courtyard below. Bull and the Chargers. Sera. Cullen, Solas, Leliana and Josephine. Vivienne, looking too finely dressed for the harrowing experience we’d just endured. And toward the back of the crowd, with his arms crossed and a sly smile on his face, Dorian.

They named me Inquisitor. I had not known what to do. It was like being asked to become the new Keeper for my clan. They looked to ME to lead them because I had a green glowing hand. But looking at their faces I knew I could rely on them. THEY would not let me lead them astray. We’d do this how we’d been doing this. Together. So I said I would do it because it was the right thing to do. Qunari, Elf, Human, Mage, Dwarf, Warden, Peasant. We had to defeat Corypheus so we could go back to squabbling with each other. The Red Future was our common enemy.

Did they all know Dorian was the man who ensured I lived to stand over them, sword pointed to the sky?

I still needed time to heal, but those who were strong enough to work started construction on Skyhold, and Josephine and Leliana started writing letters straight away, announcing us to the world. One of the first was to my clan, finally sending word of what had become of me.

The chambers they afforded me were.... impressive. Before long I had a throne. A throne. A Dalish elf on a throne. It was a lot to take in. Inquisitor. A Dalish elf with a title. 

In a week the castle looked halfway decent and my body did not groan with every small movement anymore. All of my fingers and toes had survived being nearly frozen, for which I would be eternally grateful.

I decided to have a wander around, having barely left my chambers while I returned to my strength. I saw the new smithy in the Undercroft. Herrit seemed pleased with his new setup. Next I found Solas’ study. Was he sleeping on a couch? He had done an Inquisition fresco on the walls, it was quite beautiful.

I made my way up the spiraling stone steps to the balcony above and found myself face to face with Dorian, who was perusing the books on shelves filled to the brim with them. Handsome AND intelligent was a deadly combination. And now that my body didn’t hurt so badly, the thought of companionship was rather alluring.

“Brilliant, isn’t it?” He shot over his shoulder. I noticed the muscles in his neck as he did so. “One moment you’re trying to restore order in a world gone mad, that should be enough for anyone to handle, then out of nowhere an Archdemon appears and kicks you in the head! What?! You thought this would be easy? Nooo, I was just hoping you wouldn’t crush our village like an anthill. Sorry about that, Archdemons like to crush, you know, can’t be helped.” 

I stared at him wordlessly. Seemed to me he’d had this pent up for a while, I wondered if he had anything else pent up he needed to release.

He turned to face me. “Am I speaking too quickly for you?”

“I was... distracted. That’s all,” I said, my voice a bit husky.

“Distracted?” he sounded surprised. “By my wit and charm? I have plenty of both.”

“You are a man who knows his strengths,” though he was probably a little bit too smug about them.

“I’m a man of many talents,” he said, putting a particular emphasis on the word ‘talents’, enticing me to wonder what those included.

He went on to discuss the history of Tevinter and Darkspawn, the enemy we now faced in Corypheus. He was criticizing his homeland, which, expectedly, denied all association to the Blight. I was glad he sought the truth of it, that he didn’t buy into the lies of his people. As someone who instinctively distrusted Tevinter myself, it endeared him to me every time he talked like this, reinforcing my newfound respect that he was not like the rest.

I recognized the darkness in his expression as sadness. This was the legacy of his people. The Dalish had experienced tragedy after tragedy, but there was a quiet pride in simply still existing and trying to keep what we remembered of the old ways alive. His people had cost us much of that knowledge and it was likely that was not lost on him either. For a moment I pitied him.

“We only know what Corypheus CLAIMS to be, Dorian,” I tried to offer.

He agreed that Corypheus could just being a lying madman, but that it was unlikely given what he knew. “No,” he resigned, “WE destroyed the world.”

“YOU didn’t do anything,” I countered. He had saved my life. He had SAVED the world.

He seemed to appreciate that, but his frustration couldn’t be quelled. Half a smile broke my face as he referred to the Venatori as his ‘idiot countrymen’.

“No one will thank me, whatever happens,” he put it bluntly. “No one will thank you either.”

“That’s not why I’m doing this,” I spoke truthfully. I didn’t want the worship to begin with, it felt strange and wrong. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t use what little power I had to try to help. He had seen it too, the Red Lyrium future.

“I knew there was something clever about you,” he smiled. I would face another corrupted dragon for that smile, did he have to be SO attractive? His tone was less sarcastic now, I thought I might be talking to the real Dorian, the part of him that wasn’t a facade of aloofness. “All I know is this; men like Corypheus ruined my homeland, I won’t stand by and let him ruin the world.”

He began to walk away, passing less than a foot from my face. Close enough to reach out and touch. Close enough to breathe in the scent of him and this time identify that it was perhaps... Cedarwood? Prophet’s Laurel?

He stopped and turned back to say “Oh, and congratulations on that whole leading the Inquisition thing, by the way” before going on his way.

I just watched him leave, enjoying the view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorian definitely smells good. All the time. Look at the man, he’s pretty and he smells nice.


	8. Still Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At this point in my game I started traveling pretty exclusively with Dorian, Sera, and Bull as they are wildly entertaining and it makes sense because if they weren’t with you they’d be doing pretty much nothing with their time at Skyhold. Please don’t mind me if I get carried away writing non canon dialogue from here on out, these characters are a lot of fun, though I still try to include a lot of canon stuff.

Red Templars, Red Lyrium, missing Wardens, Fade Rifts still pouring out demons, and Cassandra was going to kill Varric while he slept for hiding that Hawke character from her, it was all too much. They all looked to me to tackle problems that were beyond the power of one man to conquer.

I missed Cassandra, my stoic and stern companion. She had so much going on with the Chantry and Leliana and Cullen that I couldn’t ask her to run off into the countryside with me to close Rifts anymore without feeling guilty that I was dragging her away from greater responsibilities. Not that there were any greater responsibilities than closing the Rifts, but Bull was just as capable a warrior and if I left him behind in Skyhold he just sat around drinking. After all, I’d hired the Chargers to aid me, I should get my money’s worth.

The same could be said of my good hearted Sera. Her room in the tavern had become a favorite spot of mine in the keep. All of her bright colors and... curious collections. She called it her Cabinet of Wonders. She didn’t really want to accompany me in my travels, something about demons and magic being rubbish, but with a little prodding about villagers and refugees needing help she’d leave her comfortable cabinet and come along. Having her nowhere near the treasury certainly gave Cassandra peace of mind.

I’d made a mistake thinking Sera could travel with anyone though. She hated Vivienne and Solas and their constant bickering whenever I was forced to have them in the same place for too long was enough to make me think dropping my shield on the battlefield was a decent idea.

But it turned out all right, because Vivienne and Solas both had courtly duties to attend, now that we had a court. Vivienne writing to nobles and Circle mages alike on our behalf and Solas receiving so many tomes on the Fade I did not know how he’d ever accomplish reading them all. So in terms of mages I was left with but one option, Dorian.

The three of them got along surprisingly well considering Bull hated Vints, Sera distrusted magic, and Dorian knew what the Qunari did to mages. Part of me, a petty, childish part somewhere deep down in my soul, enjoyed that last bit. Dorian’s people had my people enslaved. Bull’s people had Dorian’s people enslaved. Neither were right, but whenever Dorian questioned Bull about the subject, I could hear the outrage in his voice. I’d felt that same outrage my whole life, now he felt it too. ‘Good,’ said that petty part of me.

Of course, after our night drinking in the tavern at Haven, I knew Dorian had no love for the slavery in his country nor the poverty in this one. For someone who grew from boy to man experiencing nothing but luxury I always found him to be shockingly.... grounded. But always with an air of arrogance.

I wondered how he’d turned out so different from the rest of his people. I would cast sideways glances at him when I thought no one was looking. I wanted to understand him and sometimes I thought I did. I’d witnessed moments where the sarcasm faded and there was a complex individual underneath. 

After all, he faced as much scrutiny in this country as I once did. “The Evil Tevinter Magister” could be heard echoing in whispers around Skyhold, always to fade when he walked through the hall. The people had accepted me as a hero, a savior, and their leader. No one’s eyes wandered to the tips of my ears or the curving lines of my Vallaslin when they spoke to me anymore. The same could not be said of Dorian, who had proven his true character to me in Redcliffe, but no one else had been there to see it.

Where I was the first to distrust him it saddened me, now, that others did the same. I knew that feeling. Fenedhis, this whole journey had started with my wrists in chains. 

I hoped maybe bringing him on my travels would give him the opportunity to quiet the whispers.  
Or maybe it was driven by my selfish desire to be able to look at him for days on end, but I liked to believe I was nobler than that. That was just a.... pleasant consequence?

“Indulge me, Sera, what do you think of when I say ‘Demons’?” my ears perked at the sound of his voice.

“Arrows,” she said without a moment’s hesitation.

“Fine. Magister?” Dorian continued.

“Arrows,” she smirked.

“Not helpful,” he remarked, “but given our history I’ll accept it.”

He was quiet a moment before he said “Thaumaturgy?”

Even I turned to look at him quizzically.

“What?” Sera’s face took on the expression she had when she was calling someone ‘stupid’.

“Magical endeavors,” he explained. “Helpful Wonders.”

“Ooohhhhhh,” the expression disappeared and then almost immediately returned. “Arrows.”

Dorian sighed, but he was smiling, just a bit, if you were looking for it.

“Must grind your gristle that the Elder One is some crazy Vint asshole, huh?” Bull voiced from the back of the group.

“I’m not thrilled that we should take those old legends at face value,” Dorian admitted.

“Guess HE thinks the modern Imperium is a real letdown, too.”

“Why wouldn’t he? Tevinter once covered all of Thedas, it’s glory only matched by its depravity,” Dorian speculated. It was immeasurably satisfying every time he degraded Tevinter. “It’d be like Koslun showing up and learning the Qunari hadn’t conquered the world after all.”

Bull chuckled. “Yeah, priesthood’s been trying to explain that one for years.”

The caves under Crestwood were dark and dank and full of demons, the conversation helped to lighten the mood. It was nice, at least, to be out of the rain. We’d come to find the mysterious Warden Hawke had talked about but Scout Harding had informed us of the crisis in Crestwood the moment we’d arrived. Even Sera had looked at me sternly and said “We’re not going to leave them, right?”. We asked the Grey Wardens we’d met on the road if they could stay to help, but they refused. It appeared they were searching for Hawke’s friend as well. 

I’d hardly felt like we could spare the time to take a fortress, drain a lake, and come wandering through these tunnels, but here we were. 

The power of my mark was, in fact, the only thing that could save these people, we COULDN’T just leave them. The Chantry sister in town had told us of all the drowned bodies here and with a Rift open demons and spirits were turning the corpses into hostile Undead. Sera had the right of it.

It also didn’t hurt to have a keep in Ferelden other than Skyhold. Caer Bronach would be a good place to station Cullen’s forces. Might even benefit the people of Crestwood all the more to have us nearby.

Caves became old Dwarven ruins the further we descended. I had to admit I was glad to see stone stairways as opposed to old, rotting, wooden planks. It’d be ironic to lose a friend to a broken board after surviving an attack by an arch demon. An irony I’d rather avoid.

When we finally came upon the Rift it was unusually large. Demons poured from it incessantly. If Solas had been here, he’d name them. Shade, Terror, Wraith, Rage. I didn’t distinguish demons that way. It was always “those ones with the tails” or “FUCK, what is THAT?” to me.

I tried to disrupt its energy to no avail, they were still coming through. Bull was roaring, swinging his greataxe mightily through the smaller ones, dispelling them with a single blow. Dorian cast in every direction, the light dancing off the wet walls. Just as we thought I might be able to close it a massive one spawned seemingly out of the ground directly in front of where Sera had taken up a spot to rain arrows into the fray.

She turned and put an arrow in its face, but that only seemed to anger it more. Oh yeah, I thought, those are the Rage demons. She put another arrow in its face shouting something about a “Wrong fiery arsehole”.

The demon growled and lifted an arm to strike her but I was already there to turn away the blow, giving her a moment to leap away and giving me the opening to drive my sword deep under its arm. I saw one of Dorian’s runes appear on the ground and pulled back my sword to get out of the way before I too was electrocuted. Lightning sprang up from the ground and consumed the creature. When the static faded Bull was behind the demon ready to bring down his axe into its back. That was enough to send the demon back to the Fade.

It seemed to be over. I took a deep breath, set my jaw in a hard line, and turned the Mark toward the Rift. Every nerve in my arm fizzled and seared as the energies battled for dominance, the Mark did not relent and the Rift collapsed in on itself.

“Now we loot the place!” exclaimed Sera. “Bull help me with this lid, why do dwarves make everything out of solid rock? Stupid.”

She and Bull searched the cavern for anything worth anything as I tried to rub the tingling out of my palm.

“Are you all right?” Dorian asked softly, I had not seen him there.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

He didn’t look like he believed me so I gave him a smile and stood up straighter. He let it go.

Sera and Iron Bull were coming back toward us.

“Find anything?” I asked.

“Uhhhh, some gold in the box,” said Sera.

“And I think this fancy looking axe fell out of the Rift, Boss.” Bull handed me an axe with green edges and intricate engravings. It felt familiar.

“It’s Dalish.” I said recognizing some of the engravings. I’d grown up on the stories of the Emerald Knights, and couldn’t help but think of Nomaris’ curse. Could one of those demons had been him? Or perhaps the Orlesian soldier who had poisoned his tree? Or was I just reading too much into it?

“Oh don’t get all elfy on us,” Sera said. “Let’s get out of this friggin’ hole and back to the city, yeah?”

I hooked the axe into my belt and we found our way out of the caves. When we emerged on the surface the sun was shining for ther first time since we’d stepped into Crestwood.


	9. The Best of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There has to be a bath house somewhere in Skyhold, there just has to be. And with all the common folk running around and nobles hanging out in the Great Hall all the time, the Inquisitor must interact with at least some of them.

Now that it was done and the villagers of Crestwood weren’t in mortal danger, we sought out the cave Hawke had marked on the map for us. He was there waiting for us when we finally found it and he didn’t bother asking what took so long.

I informed him of the Wardens we’d seen on the road, he was already aware and confirmed they were searching for his friend. We entered the cave and found that further in it had been fortified, albeit humbly. This rogue Warden seemed to have cleared out some bandits. I reminded myself to thank him for that later.

His name was Stroud, and he revealed to us that he suspected Corypheus had somehow infiltrated the Wardens’ minds. Started something known to them as The Calling. They apparently heard it in their heads before a Blight broke out. I truly hadn’t the faintest idea what he was talking about, but Hawke sure seemed to. And he seemed to think it was very serious.  
The more questions I asked, the more grave the situation became. ALL of the Wardens? Taking a stand against the Old Gods in the Deep Roads? Even Stroud admitted he was hearing it too, but having had experience with Corypheus when he was alive, well, alive the first time, he had had been suspicious and spoken out against this Commander Clarel’s plan. That was when they had branded him a traitor and thrown him out, leading him to contact Hawke. I reminded myself to thank him for that later as well, as the information was invaluable to the Inquisition.  
Stroud, now having met the Inquisition, agreed to ride with Hawke back to Skyhold.

“Find Varric, tell him of this, he will get Cassandra, she will get Cullen,” were the orders I gave. “We have to stop back in Crestwood.”

I was immensely thankful I’d left Cassandra behind to watch over the keep. This news would have Leliana, Cullen, and Josephine arguing within moments. Cassandra would cut through the bullshit and start working on a plan. She might not have attended War Councils, but in my eyes she was a good and trusted advisor, you know, for an Andrastian one. Ha, who was I kidding, they were all Andrastian and Andraste had sent me. I rolled my eyes to myself.

Our return to Crestwood was happily greeted by the villagers, but turned grim at the mayor’s house. He’d left a letter, confessing to having drowned the refugees to save the healthy villagers from the Darkspawn.

Sera ripped it from my hands and read it for herself. Bull and Dorian looked somber, but she was enraged.

“He drowned them... in the muck?” she crowed in disbelief, brows drawn together and eyes narrowed. “Oh, ‘Mayor’ is having an arrow for tea!”

She threw the letter on the ground. I picked it up and stashed it in my pocket to present to the council. He’d run, knowing we’d figure it out eventually once all this was done, but the Inquisition had forces on their way to occupy Caer Bronach that very moment, he wasn’t going to get far.

The ride back to Skyhold was lacking in this group’s typical lighthearted conversation. Sera had her arms crossed in the saddle, the reins weren’t even in her hands, but she was on Dennet’s best trained horse and he was just keeping up with the other horses. Bull and Dorian were ahead of us, but there was no playful teasing about Vints or the Qun.

I was lost in thought myself. The mayor had made a hard decision. To sacrifice the sick, but very much alive, villagers to save the ones that could be saved or to let them all fall to the Darkspawn. The Blight made a monster of him, but something of a hero as well. And the Wardens? Ugh, I didn’t want to think about the Wardens. What could Corypheus want with them? Kill them all and unleash a Blight with no one to stand against it? March them into the Deep Roads to kill the Old Gods so that he’d be the only God left? Though Stroud had made it sound like that was Clarel’s idea, not Corypheus’.

We reached the castle at nightfall and stabled the horses.

“Drinks on those old Dwarves,” Sera said to Bull, shaking her coin purse fat with the loot of our recent expedition. He grunted and followed her towards the tavern.

“Do they ever bathe?” Dorian scorned.

He seemed to have said it more to himself than to me. I just gave him a weak smile and a sigh. A thief and a mercenary, my good friends.

We walked up the steps to Skyhold and the Council was there with Cassandra, Hawke, Varric, and Stroud.

Leliana handed Dorian a letter. “This came for you.”

He took it and turned it in his hands. “I will pretend not to notice that the seal is already broken,” he said with all of his typical passive aggressive sarcasm, and took his leave of us, probably to take a bath.

The Council took our discussion to the war table and though I was exhausted I sat up for most of the night with them picking through the possibilities. The Venatori, the Templars, AND the Wardens, all working for Corypheus. It was a long night. We had very little information on where they would go or what they could be planning. The next step was to gather information as best we could. Until we knew more, there was nothing we could do but speculate. Not a fruitful meeting, but now we were all on the same page at least. Finally I told them of the events in Crestwood having to do with the mayor. Troops in the area would be dispatched post haste to locate him.

I was dragging my feet by the time I reached my bed and I fell asleep having removed only my belts and mail.

I awoke late in the morning, my body feeling rested, but my mind still troubled. Something that had arisen in conversation was whether Dorian might have insight on any old Tevinter strongholds, anything at all Corypheus might be using as a base of operations. I’d indicated that I would ask him about it.

Before I went looking for him though, I decided I myself should have a bath first. The tunic underneath my armor was positively rancid from the travel and the rain. There were natural hot springs below the castle, probably why it had been built here of all places, and had fertile soil for gardening. 

Some refugees and peasants had attached themselves to us in Haven, some showed up at our gates here, all of them knew armies and courts needed maids and serving boys. So I brought my soiled clothes to the basement chamber where some of the girls did laundry in one of the springs.

“Inquisitor,” they said and curtsied. They were both city elves.

“Ladies,” I said. The curtsies were simply a formality and I resisted the urge to tell them they weren’t required, knowing they were only trying to be polite. “I was hoping I could leave this with you? I’m sorry it’s so.... mmm.” I just scowled.

They giggled. “It’s fine, Felicity probably doesn’t mind, do you?” One girl teased the other.

“Shut up,” said Felicity. “I’m sorry Inquisitor, my friend has NO RESPECT for your station, m’Lord.”

“Oh, I just kind of fell into it really,” I admitted awkwardly.

“See?” said the first elf to Felicity, “He’s not some fancy noble with a prickle in his breeches like that Cullen one.”

She turned to me directly, “Glad you’re still humble even though the Shems sing your praises. I knew it weren’t like a Dalish to lose theirself in a court like that. Felicity here just thinks you’re handsome.”

Aaaaand I was mortified. Possibly more mortified than poor Felicity, whose face had gone three shades more pale than it had been.

The first elf laughed. “If you’re going to have yourself a bath, maybe you’d like some company?”

“Uhm,” I coughed. “I uhh, don’t think that’s necessary.”

My face and ears were burning. I never knew what to do when women expressed an interest in me in such a way. Felicity was a pretty elf, perfect skin, dark silky hair, elegant curves, just the type that would make Cullen or Blackwall swoon, but it was that very femininity that made me feel off balance.

I was a warrior. I had been a warrior at a very young age. Gentility wasn’t exactly my strong suit. Women like her seemed... frail. I needed a more durable partner.

If I hadn’t been so uncomfortable I might have been able to explain that to her but all I managed was to look at her and say “That is very kind. Thank you for the offer,” and bow before turning and walking out rather quickly.

I heard Felicity chastise the other girl as I walked away. I really hoped neither of them turned up while I was washing. The springs that were not used for laundry had stone pools carved around them, with steps inset into the sides to serve as seats. There was no one around this time of day and I stripped off my clothes to sink into the hot water. I sighed in relaxed pleasure and leaned my head back, eyes closed.  
My legs were sore from riding and I massaged the tension from my thighs. 

Josephine had received some ridiculous gifts from nobles trying to procure favor with the Inquisition, not the least of which had been a crate of all different fragranced soaps. I’ll admit to having examined them all, trying to figure out if any one of them was the one responsible for making Dorian smell so divine all the time, but to no avail. Some of them were rather nice though and I had taken a few and asked Josie to write a letter of appreciation.

I used one now to scrub away the dirt and sweat that caked my skin. It had been shaped like a leaf and turned green from the mint leaves they used to scent it. I lathered it in what little hair I had and over my face. I dunked my head under the water to rinse it all off, feeling like a new person. And in much better shape to talk to Dorian.

I’d never wanted to impress anyone before, and I suppose I still didn’t, I just wanted Dorian to find me acceptable. I wanted... Gods I didn’t know what I wanted. I wanted him. I wished I didn’t but I couldn’t help it.

I’d had casual dalliances with a few passing merchants. A few flings with some fellow Dalish. Usually men, but the occasional well muscled woman had found her way into my bed. People found me attractive, often remarking that my deep voice surprised them coming from my sleek frame, that my golden eyes looked particularly good by a fire. Humans especially often seemed entranced by me, strange and foreign as I was. A curiosity.

And whenever I took a human lover I saw it as a conquest, I would make them beg for me before I gave myself to them and I would never let them take me in return.

The image of Dorian in their place had kept me awake many nights. It was an almost unbearably attractive idea. To conquer not just a human, but a Tevinter Magister? And one who was really quite a marvel to look at. To watch his smug smile and witty remarks turn to a furrowed brow and breathless pleading? It was enough to make me painfully hard.

But it didn’t feel quite right to imagine it that way. I respected Dorian, shockingly enough, more than most of the men I’d already had. And I probably should not have been picturing it, anyway.

For now, I’d settle for him seeing I wasn’t an entirely savage elf from the forest, so I rose from the steaming pool and dried myself off before donning my loose linens and heading back to my quarters to put on some proper clothes. I selected a tunic sewn with Everknit wool, the green bringing out the gold in my eyes, and a pair of leather breeches.

Dorian was where I expected him to be, but in place of his usual book he was pacing with a letter in his hands. I assumed it to be the one Leliana had delivered to him upon our return, but he must’ve read it already.

“Anything interesting?” I asked.

“A letter regarding Felix, Alexius’ son. He went to the Magisterium, stood on the Senate floor and told them of you, a glowing testimonial I’m informed,” he told me, I noticed his voice was not playful today. “No news yet on the reaction but everyone back home is talking. Felix always was as good as his word.”

“Was?” I understood immediately.

“He’s dead. The Blight caught up with him.”

“Are you all right?” I asked him. It came out naturally. I had never expressed to Dorian that I cared for him in any capacity, and maybe even I thought my feelings surrounding him were based more in lust than respect, but this was different. An old friend of his had died and I just wanted to comfort him.

“He was ill, he was on borrowed time anyhow,” he tried to act nonchalant, but I was learning to see through that.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t regret his death.”

“I know,” he sighed. “Felix used to sneak me treats from the kitchens when I was working late in his father’s study. ‘Don’t get yourself into trouble on my behalf’ I’d tell him. ‘I like trouble’ he’d say.”

Half a smile curled on his face as he remembered. “Tevinter could use more mages like him. Ones who put the good of others above themselves.”

“You make him sound like he was a better person than you,” I said, it was unusual for Dorian to speak so highly of someone that was not himself. I briefly wondered if he and Felix had been involved romantically, but thought it better not to voice that curiosity just now. Part of me only wanted to ask so that I could judge whether or not he was attracted to men.

“What a mad thing to say, few people are better than I,” he retorted. I just cocked an eyebrow at him. “Very well, a better person, clearly, but not nearly as handsome.”

He paced a few steps. I was still shaking my head, even though I didn’t disagree, when he looked over at me and said “Thankfully, Felix wasn’t the only decent sort kicking around Thedas.”

It was all he said but his eyes bore into me. Did he mean... me?

“Well I’m glad you’re taking it well,” I cleared my throat. “Let me know if you need anything.”

It was his turn to cock an eyebrow at me. I turned to leave, not certain whether I’d made a fool of myself. I hadn’t meant it like that, I wasn’t about to take advantage of a grieving man. Unless, of course, he wanted me to. Did he want me to? I sighed, why did he have to be so hard to read?


	10. The Boy & The Bull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull’s flirting with Dorian is well known to the fandom. I don’t think I’m going to include a threesome, but I think their dialogue is fantastic and would greatly agitate my Amheotil. Oh, and if anyone was wondering that is pronounced Am-ho-teel.

I realized later I had not asked Dorian about Tevinter ruins at all. He had been grieving, of course, it hardly seemed the appropriate time, and he did have a way of distracting me. All the time. In his presence it was almost too easy to forget that the outside the world was ending.

I thought maybe I should distance myself from him, I had much more pressing concerns, I couldn’t really afford to be focused on my fucking sex life.

Of course I thought about this as I stared at his ass walking down a road in the Hinterlands.

We were looking for more of the strange relics revealed by the Occularums that seemed to be scattered about all of Thedas. Solas wanted to study them, he thought maybe they could reveal some kind of lost secret, give us an upper hand in the fight against Corypheus. And so we were climbing the winding, rocky trail behind Dennet’s farm.

Of course we’d delivered some letters and gifts to his wife while we were out here and thanked her heartily for allowing her husband to be whisked away with us. In return she’d given us bread and two jars of her homemade fruit preserves to put in our packs, though she requested that one of those jars make it back to her husband as it was a particular favorite of his. I promised her that I would try my best, but one look at Bull and she seemed... skeptical.

“I camped in these hills for two weeks when I first got here,” Dorian announced after taking in the view from the ridge. “Me, camping!” He laughed.

It was quite the scene to imagine, though with his magic I hardly thought he’d be out gathering wood for a campfire. I wondered if his tent had been made of fine silk. I wondered how he’d occupied himself alone for two weeks. I wondered if Dennet had ever noticed him living back here. That last thought caused me a great bit of internal hilarity. 

I would be perfectly content in these hills, especially now that the Templars’ and Mages’ camps had been cleared out and the fighting had ceased. Plenty of Ram and Bear meat to keep me fed, freshwater streams gurgling down from the mountains, indeed I thought it’d be a rather pleasant place to live. The horsemaster had selected a nice spot to settle for his agricultural pursuits. 

I leapt nimbly over a boulder at the top of the ridge to pick up the last mysterious shard we’d been seeking. When I turned to jump back down I stopped, noticing the way Dorian was staring at Iron Bull. I had done the same on occasion, of course, as he was an impressive figure, but every time I tried to imagine what THAT would be like, it made me feel more nervous than aroused.

I worried for a moment that maybe Dorian disagreed with that sentiment and felt a pang of jealousy.

“Quite the stink eye you’ve got going, Dorian,” said Bull. He was a keen warrior and a spy, I was not surprised he caught on to what was happening.

“You stand there flexing your muscles, huffing like some beast of burden with no thought save conquest,” Dorian said, not quite aggressively enough to be a real insult, more of an observation. “That’s all.”

Bull smiled and took a step towards the mage. “That’s right,” he growled. “These big muscled hands could tear those robes off while you struggled, helpless in my grip.”

Sera and I stared at the two of them in the same shocked silence, me from atop my boulder, Sera from where she’d been lining up a shot at a Ram, now letting her bow and arrow drop as her head whipped around to look at the two men. But where she had a hint of a smile on her face, I was certain my own must be as red as the Templars we fought. Dorian was my conquest.

“I would pin you down,” Bull continued, “and as you gripped my horns I. Would. Conquer. You.”

Right then and there I thought I might have to try to kill The Iron Bull. I wasn’t sure I could, but certainly I had the high ground at the moment. I was mulling over strategies when I heard Dorian speak again.

“Uhhhh, what?”

“Oh,” Bull backed up a step, grinning, “is that not where you were going with that?”

The look on Dorian’s face was equal parts incredulous and intrigued. 

“No, it was very much not.”

Bull guffawed and clapped Dorian on the shoulder. I felt a wave of relief. It seemed Dorian felt as I did, that he enjoyed being able to walk.  
I hopped down off the boulder and shot Dorian a cocked eyebrow and a smirk. Now it was funny, I couldn’t help imagining it. Poor Dorian.

“Shall we return these to Solas?” I asked, grinning, holding up the sack of all the shards we’d collected for him.

“Gladly,” smiled Dorian, shooting one last look at Bull who just shrugged.

Sera had finally stopped cackling. She wiped tears from her eyes and strung her bow across her chest once more.

We took our mounts back from the stables at Dennet’s and began the ride home to Skyhold. Bull rode as our vanguard while I was the shield at our backs. We’d just entered the mountain pass that took us out of the Hinterlands, our Harts single file and sure-footed on the winding, rocky trails, when Sera shouted over her shoulder.

“The people back in Tevinter, are they all just like you, Dorian?”

“Meaning what exactly?” asked Dorian sounding like he expected to be insulted, a feeling I was very familiar with.

To his surprise Sera explained, “You know; not scary, keeping their magic rubbish to themselves?”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he proclaimed cheerfully. What he said next was more depressing, ”Sadly, there's an element there who would welcome Corypheus with open arms. A stupidly short-sighted element.”

“I know right? He’s a pissbag.”

“Ha! Quite!” Dorian agreed with a chuckle. “You know, I can't believe you're scared of magic, Sera. It's a gift as mundane to me as your bow to you. Surely you see there's nothing to fear in a properly used tool.”

“Ugh, tell that to all the mages waving their ‘tools’ in people’s faces,” she griped.

“There’s an image,” I heard Dorian mutter as he shook his head. “Still, I’m wondering if familiarity would cure your suspicion of magic.”

“I don’t need to be familiar with your tool,” she argued.

Bull laughed up ahead and I laughed where I was. From behind him I could see Dorian reach up with one hand and pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Please stop saying ‘tool’,” he begged her. “And consider how much we could accomplish. There are benefits for you and everyone. As the Maker said: ‘Magic exists to serve.’”

“I don’t care,” expressed Sera. “I like you, Dorian, don’t ruin it.”

The rest of the ride continued much the same way, our group in good spirits.

We crossed through the gates of Skyhold after nightfall and all having felt particularly friendly we headed to the Herald’s Rest to share an evening of drinking. Cabot broke open a few bottles of Butterbile for us. It wasn’t long before Bull made his second pass at Dorian, letting him know that his door was always unlocked if he ever wanted to explore the option. With the notable lack of sex in my own life and the amount of liquor soaked into my brain, it didn’t seem a bad offer at the moment. 

And though I felt defensive, I absolutely should have expected others being attracted to HIM, after all he was the most beautiful, if not the most mistrusted, member of my inner circle.

Dorian again refused the invitation, but the little pang of jealousy still flickered. Was I jealous because I thought he might eventually break down and give himself to Bull? Or was I jealous that Bull had the courage to let his attraction be known? Was I jealous that even if my attraction was known to Dorian, he might prefer Bull? Probably all of it, I thought as I took another shot.

Krem appeared and pulled Bull away, no doubt to report back on Therinfall Redoubt. I told them I was much too drunk to be debriefed now. Bull said he’d DEBRIEF me anytime I asked. Excellent, the sexual innuendos now extended to me. Dorian seemed to take great pleasure in that.

“I KNOW!” shouted Sera though no one had addressed her. “We’ll have an archery contest.”

“Wha-“ I tried to start but she’d gotten very excited about an idea that had materialized very suddenly. Liquor.

“On Saturday!” She stood up abruptly and beamed at Dorian and I. “Brilliant, innit? I’m going to make a flyer.”

She started walking towards the stairs that would take her to her cabinet. Then she turned and very seriously told us “Varric and Bianca won’t be allowed” before dashing up the steps.

Dorian and I laughed rather hard at all of this, looked at each other, and shook ourselves back into posterity. Where was the Inquisitor’s sulky demeanor? Where was the cool, casual Magister no one could trust? No one would know what to do if they learned we were real people and not caricatures they’d drawn up in their minds. 

I sighed, still trying to kill the remnants of my laughter. Here we were alone in a tavern again, though with much more familiarity than we had had back in Haven. I would have been suspicious that Sera and Bull had been present both times, but there wasn’t ever a night they WEREN’T in the tavern. Fenhedis, Sera lived here. I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my neck. All of the fighting and riding I was doing these days made for some stiff muscles.

“It’s nice to see you relax,” Dorian remarked, pouring us both another shot. He gave me a sly look. “It’s usually exhausting to watch you.”

“How do you mean?” I sat back up to level with him. He was in the habit of watching me, was he?

“Always running around Skyhold,” he said lifting his glass to take his shot. “Here and there you go, checking in on all your followers. I mean, why don’t they come to you? Feed you grapes. Rub your shoulders.”

I laughed, is that what it was like in Tevinter? I chased my chuckle with the shot he’d poured for me.

“Eh, I suppose it’s more fun this way,” he continued and then smiled deviously. “For me, anyway.”

I gave him a quizzical look.

“You’re rather strapping.”

On the ride to Redcliffe I had wondered if Dorian was flirting with me. This time there wasn’t much to wonder about. Perhaps Bull had inspired HIM to be more direct. This time I certainly wouldn’t turn down the opportunity.

“I’d noticed you’re quite strapping yourself,” I offered.

“Heh,” he leaned onto his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together and resting his chin on them. “Well that only takes eyes.”

I reciprocated his body language, leaning forward onto the table so there was only a foot of space between us. This close I could see that his skin was flawless.

“Luckily I have those,” I looked directly into his.

“Yes you do,” his voice was dancing, he joined me in the staring contest, “a rather fetching pair.”

I was ready to jump his bones in the middle of the Herald’s Rest. We were not AS drunk as we were the night in Haven, the rising heat in my breeches was saying that I could absolutely perform.

“Done!” Sera abruptly interrupted us. “Can I use your sword as a hammer?”

I cleared my throat and gathered myself. “Dennet’s got a real hammer in the stables,” I said, my voice threatening to crack. “I’ll fetch it.”

I shot up from my chair and strode straight out the door without so much as a glance back at Dorian. The air was cold tonight and the moon was bright. I had to take a few deep breaths and steady myself, what the fuck was that? Had that really just happened? My mind was stuttering in disbelief. Maybe we WERE that drunk. Had Sera noticed? I was mortified, but the great thing about leather was that it hid certain anatomical features well. She probably, maybe, hopefully hadn’t noticed.

I shook it off and headed down the stone steps to the stables. Blackwall was doing one of his wood carvings by lamplight. I asked him where I could get a hammer and he got up himself to retrieve one for me. I thanked him and told him he was a talented craftsmen. We spoke for a brief moment before I turned to leave.

“Sera will be wondering where I am,” I said in goodbye.

“Goodnight, Inquisitor,” he replied.

When I returned to the Herald’s Rest, Sera informed me Dorian had taken off for the evening. She then proceeded to hammer her flyer directly into a structural beam in the middle of the tavern, much to Cabot’s dismay. I told her I was turning in for the night as well, and invited her to polish off the Butterbile without us. I tried not to let her see how crestfallen I was.

Fuck, I thought. I had completely botched it. Dorian probably had a mouth full of Iron Bull right now. I ran from him. Why did I do that? I would have never done that back in the Free Marches. Sera be damned, posterity be damned, I would have taken his hand and lead him to my chambers and had my way with him. Where had THAT Amheotil gone?

Who was I kidding? Dorian wasn’t some merchant’s son, wondering what it was like to have an elf, that I could only be too happy to oblige. He was a grown man, a powerful mage, a noble, and a picturesque specimen of the male physique. Even in my element in the Free Marches, he would have intimidated me.

I ambled up the stairs to my quarters feeling equal measures giddy that he had flirted with me at all and devastated that I had blown it.

Mostly I was not ready for our next conversation which I was sure would be painfully awkward. For me, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hanging out with Bull, Sera, and Dorian finally starts to make Amheotil lighten up, as it would do to anyone. Also, we can probably all agree Sera came up with her archery contest while heavily intoxicated and probably unprompted. I also moved the location of some of the flirting dialogue because My God, Dorian cannot spend every waking moment hanging out by a bookshelf.


	11. The Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Proudly introducing the fantastical world of my imaginary relationships with mounts and exploring what character dialogue is like outside of the cutscenes & scripted banter. If you’ve made it this far I hope you’re enjoying the story.

The morning did not find me in better spirits. I dressed myself and realized I’d left the satchel filled with strange glowing stone relics in the tavern. Great. I was doing great. I was succeeding on all fronts in life. Certainly worthy of being at the head of a growing military force.  
Fen’Harel take me.  
After I was finished sarcastically chastising myself I laughed again at the thought that people worshipped me. It was a good thing they’d never met me.  
I was heading through the great hall to go retrieve the bag, which I was hoping was still there, when Mother Giselle caught me. I had great respect for Mother Giselle as a person, though I held no love for the Chantry.  
“My Lord Inquisitor, it is good of you to speak with me” she began. “I have news regarding one of your.... companions. The Tevinter.”  
Oh no. I was momentarily panicked that he’d left Skyhold altogether. Had I fucked up that badly last night? Or worse, could he have drunkenly fallen out one of the holes in the walls and plunged to his death off the mountainside? Then I noticed the sour look on her face and knew that, no, he was very much alive and she was very much disapproving of that. It dawned on me that I would not think Mother Giselle could ever had a disliking for anyone, nurturing as she was.  
“Mother Giselle, is that a note of distaste I detect?”  
“I.... I admit his presence here makes me uncomfortable, Inquisitor, but my feelings are of no importance.”  
At least she was honest. Most people at court whispered about the Tevinter when they thought I couldn’t hear them.  
“I have been in contact with his father. House Pavus out of Qarinus,” she carried on.  
Oh shit. Dorian had mentioned before that he had left his family when they tried to force him into a marriage. I didn’t know the finer details of their argument, but I knew this was likely an unwelcome correspondence.  
“Why would his family contact YOU?” I asked, suddenly wondering how they even knew Mother Giselle was here with the I Inquisition, or why they thought her to be the one who could get through to Dorian.  
“Because they don’t know you, Inquisitor. I am not of the Imperial Chantry, but they at least know what I represent. These are parents concerned for the welfare of their son, how could I not do whatever possible for them?”  
“And what if this is some kind of trap?”  
“The thought had occurred to me, a plot set by those mages, the Venatori? All the more reason to put this in your hands.”  
I suppose she had a fair point there.  
“They sent me a letter describing their estrangement and pleading for my aid. They want to arrange a meeting, quietly, without telling him. They fear it’s the only way he’ll come. Since you seem to be on good terms with the young man, I had hoped...” she trailed off.  
“If you think I’m going to trick Dorian into meeting his family...” I could see where she was going with this.  
“I feared you might react this way,” she said. “I’ll give this to you, please consider it, Inquisitor. If there is even a chance for reconciliation, it behooves us to act.”  
She handed me the letter and walked away. I considered reading it but that felt wildly inappropriate, I could not invade Dorian’s privacy that way. I tucked it into my tunic and continued on my original mission to recover the forgotten satchel.  
Dorian’s parents were worried about him. Or someone was hoping to kill him, perhaps an accomplice of Alexius’ who knew of Dorian’s hand in foiling that plot? If it WAS really his parents, and they somehow reconciled, would Dorian go back to Tevinter? Back to his lavish life and his elven slaves? I couldn’t answer that question. He often expressed his disdain for the south, the weather, the crumbly parts of our current home. He more often expressed his disdain for his countrymen. Still, I feared the answer would be yes. And I didn’t want him to go. I could simply burn the letter. Perhaps that would be best so as not to upset him? But just the thought of that felt dishonest, the actions of a boy who had a crush, not a man who had any honor. Of course I had to tell him.  
I didn’t find my bag where we’d been sitting last night. I cursed under my breath and then heard Cabot at the bar. He was holding my satchel up.  
“I don’t know what.... these... are for, Inquisitor, but ya left ‘em under the table last night,” he said.  
“Thank you,” I said breathing a sigh of relief.  
“Just doing my job.”  
“I think you deserve a raise.” I made a note to myself to speak with Josephine about it.  
I brought the shards to Solas, who was sitting at his desk pouring over a very old looking manuscript. He thanked me and sent me on my way.   
I wondered if Dorian was reading today. If he were he’d be just up those stairs, I thought as I looked at the stone steps out of Solas’ study.  
I thought of last night, being so close to Dorian’s face I could have leaned over and kissed him. How he had disappeared on me. My own face felt hot. I had known our next conversation would be awkward and now I had a letter from his family to make it so, so much worse.  
Faaaaantastic.  
I steeled myself and ascended the stone steps. Dorian was seated by the window, book in hand, as I expected he might be. I cleared my throat. He looked up and I was tempted to say he didn’t look upset at all. On the contrary he had one eyebrow raised and the left side of his lip curled upward in a suggestive kind of smirk.  
“Inquisitor,” he stood to address me. “To what do I owe the honor?”   
Nothing? Nothing about last night at all? No witty remark, no explanation for his sudden exit or lack of goodbye? All right. That actually... that actually made this easier, we were going to forget it and move on. I was amenable to that. Still, I grimaced, overly aware of the parchment concealed in my tunic. It was good news he wasn’t upset with me. But the bad news? He was about to be.  
“I have a letter you need to see...” might as well jump right into it.  
“Ooh, is it a naughty letter?” he jested. “A humorous proposal from some Antivan Dowager, perhaps?”  
“Not quite,” I said, taking a deep breath. “It’s from your father.”  
“I see,” all trace of witty jibes left him and his voice became as sharp as my sword. “And what does Magister Halward want, praytell?”  
“A meeting,” I said pulling the letter from where I’d tucked it into my shirt.  
“Show me,” he demanded, reaching out a hand.  
I gave it over to him and watched as he read whatever information it contained, his face turning angry and sad in flashes of expression.  
“Did you read this?” he asked me about halfway through. I shook my head. He looked relieved at that, and I knew I had made the right decision not to snoop.  
“I know my son,” he quoted the words angrily. “What my father knows about me would barely fill a thimble. This is so typical!”  
I had never seen Dorian lose control like that. Even when he was being deadly serious in conversation, even on the battlefield, I’d never seen his emotions overpower his curated facade. I didn’t have to understand the details for it to hurt me that my friend was hurt.  
“I’m willing to bet this ‘retainer’ is a thug hired to knock me over the head and drag me back to Tevinter,” he spat.  
“That would be hard to do while I stood there,” I threatened. I wanted Dorian to know I would be his champion if he required it of me.  
“He expects me to travel with Mother Giselle, though I don’t have any idea why he thinks I would,” he looked up from the parchment, “Let’s go. Let’s go meet this ‘family retainer’ and if it’s a trap we kill everyone! You’re good at that!”  
His briefly returned sense of humor made me think that maybe what I had said had helped. I was good at killing, he wasn’t wrong.  
“And if it’s not,” continued Dorian with a more sour tone, “I’ll send him back to tell my father he can stick his alarm in his wit’s end.”  
Though I knew the answer I decided to probe for more clarity. “There seems to be bad blood between you and your family.”  
He laughed, though I didn’t understand why.   
“Interesting turn of phrase,” he said, “As I’ve told you before, they don’t care for my choices nor I for theirs.”  
But I still didn’t quite comprehend, “Because you wouldn’t get married? Because you left?”  
“That too,” he growled.  
That too? Sylaise have mercy, what else had they done to him? I thought of Mother Giselle hoping for reconciliation.  
“Your parents are reaching out, couldn’t that mean.... something?” It didn’t sound very convincing.  
“That they’re trying to choke me,” he shot back angrily. Then he took a deep breath and said much more softly, “Don’t mind me. You’ll really come with me?”  
“Of course I will.” In fact I thought I’d do almost anything he asked me to, especially when he looked so... sad.  
“Let’s go then.”  
I nodded and went to ready a couple of Harts for us. The ride to Redcliffe took about a day but if we left soon we’d be through the mountains and into the Hinterlands to set up camp by nightfall. The area was well occupied by Inquisition forces these days, it was probably safe to travel by ourselves, I doubted we’d run into much trouble.   
Although.... the idea of fighting back to back with Dorian was... hmm. I had seen the things that man was capable of. I could dance with a sword and make a bowstring hum, but I could not shoot a dozen orbs of pure electricity from my chest. Gods, I loved that trick.   
I pictured it as I loaded the saddlebags with all of the necessary supplies.  
“No horses?” Dorian had assembled his personal pack and found his way to the stables, scowling.  
“I keep telling you the Harts are better through the mountains, they don’t get spooked by rocks and bears,” it was true, I wasn’t accepting arguments. “Come on, today you ride like a Dalish.”   
I gestured to his mount, the carefully bred and trained Red Hart. A noble’s Hart. I picked him specifically because I knew even Dorian could handle him.  
“His name is Ghilana, you can call him Gil.”  
Dorian, who’d looked very sullen upon entering the barn, was trying to suppress a grin.  
“I’m going to ride like a Dalish elf on a beast named Gil?” He couldn’t hide it, he was grinning ear to ear, one arm tucked underneath the opposite elbow with that hand raised in amusement.  
I nodded. The night we spent in Haven he’d showed a great interest in Elvhen culture, I had thought this would please him. I was glad to have been correct.  
“Ha! Quite. Hello Gil,” he approached the Red Hart reaching out to touch the animal’s snout. He was gentle, understanding a creature like this needed to approve of you before you climbed onto its back. When they were properly acquainted he approached the saddle, sized it up, and pulled himself into it like he’d been doing it all his life.  
“Are we going or not?” he quipped, quite literally looking down on me.  
I swung up onto my own Hart and nudged him forward to a walk, directing him towards the gates. Across the bridge out of Skyhold Dorian trotted up next to me on the trail.  
“You said his name was Ghilana, is that correct?” he asked in earnest.  
“Mmhmm.”  
“What does that mean?”  
“It’d be something like ‘Guide’ or ‘Guides you’,” I told him. “I had thought it quite an excellent name for this Hart in particular, he’s trustworthy.”  
Dorian reached forward and patted Gil’s neck. “Magnificent,” he said. “What’s yours called?”  
I smiled broadly. “Elgar’nan. God of Vengeance, the All Father, Pride of Arlathaan.” I scratched him behind his ears as I listed his titles. He liked hearing about himself.  
Dorian looked insulted. “You’re on Elgar’nan God of Vengeance and mine is called Gil?”  
I laughed quite heartily at that, nodding my head.  
“Of course, that’s no shame upon you, Gil,” he said to his steed, “you weren’t the one choosing names either.”  
“It’s better than whatever the Orlesians might have been calling him. He’s still a little dodgy around masks,” I was only half joking.  
“I don’t blame him, the masks are odd.”  
“You know Dorian, I’m a little surprised you don’t recognize Elgar’nan. His kind roam wild in Tevinter. Left there after the Elvhen exodus, before the expansion. He might be descended from the very Hart the real Elgar’nan rode.” Elgar’nan bleeted, shaking his shaggy head, he liked that part of the story.  
“I’m familiar with the history, and I’m fascinated to meet a living piece of it,” he nodded at Elgar’nan when he said it, obviously amused at my Hart’s display of personality. “Alas, I have never traveled that part of Tevinter.”  
“I saw him listed on that board Dennet puts together of available mounts in his circle of trainers and breeders. No one breeds them, I wondered where they got him. Sorta thought no one should really have him....” he was meant to be wild with his herd, where he’d likely been trapped to be an exotic mount. He was like me, a Dalish without his clan.  
“Well, I dare say if anyone was going to have him, he ended up in the right hands.”  
“Thanks, Dorian.”  
The trail got thinner and we had to form ourselves back into a single file. Elgar’nan could practically navigate this terrain blindfolded and he kept a good pace. Sometimes I wondered why I put reins on this Hart at all. Ghilana was keeping right up, head held high as ever. I think part of him liked having a proper noble on his back again.  
A tree had fallen across our path a few meters up.  
“How are you at jumping?” I shouted over my shoulder.  
“I did learn to ride in Tevinter,” Dorian shot back. “Maybe not on one of these, but Gil is here to guide me, is he not?”  
I smiled at that and tapped my heels on Elgar’nan’s sides. He picked up into a canter and leapt over the tree, landing gracefully back on the trail. We paused there and waited as Gil followed suit and Dorian beamed.  
“I think I might like this business of Dalish riding,” he smirked. The dual meaning of his words was not lost on me. I just cocked an eyebrow at him and urged Elgar’nan to start moving again.

As I’d expected we were setting up camp in the Hinterlands by the time the sun started sinking in the sky. Dorian created a fire, no wood or flint required, just sort of summoned one into existence with his hands. It was warm in the valley and I considered not pitching a tent at all, it had been too long since I last slept beneath the stars, but I thought Dorian needed a little more than that so I set a tent for him.  
“Only the one?” he asked.  
“I thought I might sleep by the fire,” I admitted sheepishly.  
He feigned disappointment, “And here I was thinking you meant to share with me.”  
I choked a bit on my canteen.  
“Is that.... what YOU want?”   
I’d considered that possibility as well, I just knew I wouldn’t get much sleep in that scenario. The whole tent would likely smell of him, I’d be far to close to his skin, I’d be able to hear him breathing. No. But also, yes please.  
He seemed to mull over the idea as well. We both knew there was a sexual proposition in this conversation somewhere. It could happen if we willed it, there was no one around to judge us.  
He sighed, looking slightly pained, and finally answered my question.  
“I think there’s... too much on my mind for that tonight.”  
I had not forgotten why we were out here. I’d managed to cheer him with the Harts today, but tomorrow brought with it a host of concerns.  
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.  
He frowned. “Not yet,” he said, “but I will.”  
I nodded. It was a fair answer. I was actually surprised he’d suggested he’d talk to me at all. If he’d said ‘no’ and refused to ever tell me about it I’d have accepted it. Some things a man just needed to keep to himself, I understood that.  
And so I let him brood. He must have reread the letter a thousand times before tossing it angrily into the fire, scowling at it as it burned.  
“You know,” I broke the silence. “I thought of doing just that when Mother Giselle gave me that letter.”  
“Ha!” the laugh was hollow. “I almost wish you had.”  
“Should I have? Felt... deceitful.”  
“No. I am not pleased by the reason for this journey, that much is true, but I am rather enjoying the company,” he gave me a small smile. “And it is good to know you lack the capacity for deceit.”  
“I wouldn’t say that,” I admitted, thinking of all the times I’d lied or seduced to get information for my clan. “I only lack the capacity to deceive you, specifically.”  
I couldn’t read the expression on his face after I’d said it. I watched the firelight dance over his graceful features. It felt like it had last night in the Tavern, though we weren’t nearly as close to one another. For a moment, it seemed another staring contest, but his eyes drifted once more to my ears, to my Vallaslin, tracing the markings over my lips and down my throat, before returning to make eye contact once more.  
“I appreciate you,” he stated simply, “we should both get some rest.”  
With that he stood and walked into the tent where I’d set out a bedroll for him. He was right about that. I laid my own bedroll out by the fire and curled up with the sky as my ceiling. I traced the constellations rather than wonder what Dorian’s parents had done that was so unspeakable. I made a list of things to check up on at the Crossroads rather than replay the words ‘I appreciate you’ over in my mind.  
But as my eyes drifted closed the fire made the shadows around the campfire leap and play and the image of Dorian sitting across from me consumed my mind, the most beguiling man in all of Thedas.  
I appreciated him too.


	12. One Kiss & Two Bottles of Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again I shuffled some of the cutscene dialogue out of the cutscene. Also, after the make out sesh back in Skyhold Dorian invites the Inquisitor to drink with him and like.... obviously something like that doesn’t happen and then you just fuck off. And once again, there is NO privacy in that tower so it boggles my mind that Solas takes you to your balcony but Dorian’s just like “let’s make out by these books!” but later tries to be all coy about it.  
> Also Also, the fact that he’s a borderline alcoholic but NEVER leaves that bookshelf can only mean he’s got booze stashed in there somewhere.

The ride to Redcliffe was silent. Dorian was quiet the entire way, seemingly lost in thought. I respected that as I’d often been in the same position. We reached the Gull and Lantern in good time without incident.  
Dorian stopped outside the door, reaching but not opening.  
“You ready?” I asked. If he’d said no I’d be willing to mount back up and ride home for Skyhold in an instant.  
“As I’ll ever be,” he replied.  
Upon entering the tavern we immediately noticed how empty it was. I moved my hand to the pommel of my sword, fearing that this was a trap after all.  
Then a voice came from the stairway. “Dorian.”  
Dorian turned to face the man, “Father.”  
Andraste’s ass. This was not how I’d pictured things going.  
Dorian’s father was handsome in a dignified kind of way, I could see the resemblance though some of his finer features must have come from his mother. The Magister was dressed in a robe befitting his station, lustrous fabrics elaborately embellished. He made even Dorian look a peasant in comparison.  
“So that whole story about the family retainer was, what? A smoke screen?” Dorian asked.  
“Then you were told,” his father realized, looking at me rather than his son. “I apologize for the deception, Inquisitor, I never intended for you to be involved.”  
It bit into me that he was apologizing to me for the deception, and not to his son who he’d intended to deceive.  
Dorian looked at me, his face contorted, irate, as he turned back to his father.  
“Of course not,” he said, “Magister Pavus couldn’t come to Skyhold and be seen with the dread Inquisitor. What would people think?”  
I hadn’t thought of it like that. Was Dorian’s father Venatori? Could that be why he was so reluctant to talk about this before?  
“What is this exactly, Father? Ambush? Kidnapping? Warm family reunion?” Dorian’s voice was brimming with contempt.  
His father sighed heavily. “This is how it has always been.”  
“You lied to get him here,” I said, incredulous that his father dared to play the offended party. “Dorian has every right to be angry.”  
Dorian turned to me, “You don’t know the half of it,” he growled. “But maybe you should.”  
“Dorian, there’s no need to...” Magister Halward tried to say, but Dorian was already speaking to me.  
“I prefer the company of men, my father disapproves.”  
At that my heart broke. Dalish clans did not care about such unimportant details as who one chose to bed. At this point I had gathered that Dorian was indeed attracted to men, attracted to me even, but I had never imagined that was the reason for his exodus from his homeland. I realized once more how I’d judged his life in Tevinter too harshly. I’d assumed it was all luxury and riches, I’d never imagined he’d had to hide who he was.  
“That’s what this is about? Who you sleep with?” his father really was an arse if that were true.  
“That’s not all this is about.”  
“Dorian, please, if you would only listen to me,” his father pleaded.  
“Why? So you can spout more convenient lies?” Dorian demanded of his father and without breaking his glare at the man he addressed me, “He taught me to hate Blood Magic. ‘The resort of a weak mind’. Those are HIS words.”  
He began to pace. “But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life? You tried to... change me.”  
I watched Dorian’s face contort with grief. I couldn’t stand it. I knew next to nothing about Blood Magic, but the thought that someone COULD be changed, that someone TRIED it, disgusted me. My eyes narrowed as I turned back to the Magister.  
“I only did what I thought was best for you, Dorian,” he was saying.  
“You wanted what was best for YOU!” Dorian countered, “your fucking legacy! Anything for that.”  
He walked away and leaned on the bar. I approached him, not sure if it was okay to touch him, though I wished I could offer him comfort.  
Part of me wanted to believe in the reconciliation that Mother Giselle believed in. All of me knew his father hardly deserved it.  
“I think it’s time we left,” I said.  
“I agree.”  
We left his father standing there. He looked despondent but I could hardly care about his feelings and I imagined Dorian felt the same. We mounted our Harts and galloped out of Redcliffe.  
We were well past the Crossroads before he spoke again. We had slowed to a walk, riding side by side.  
“I’m sorry,” he said.  
“Don’t,” I stopped him. “You have nothing to apologize for.”  
He sighed heavily.  
“That’s a big concern then? In Tevinter?”  
“Only if you’re trying to live up to an impossible standard,” he explained. “Every Tevinter family is intermarrying trying to distill the perfect mage. Perfect body, perfect mind. The perfect Leader. Every perceived flaw, every aberration is deviant and shameful. It must be hidden.”  
“Well, you don’t have to hide anything from me, Dorian. And I rather think they succeeded in distilling the perfect body. Don’t know what more they could want,” I let him ponder that for a moment before I turned my head to smirk at him, trying hard to lighten his mood.  
“Very funny,” he said sarcastically, but he did give me a very small smile.  
“Listen, not that it makes any of this easier, but I want you to know that you have a family in the Inquisition. Bull, Sera, ... me.” I shrugged and inclined my head towards him. “Sorry we’re so shitty.” I gave him an ear to ear grin, knowing our ragtag little unit was probably never one he would’ve imagined himself being part of, then I dropped the smile to reveal a much more threatening face. “But I’d like to see anyone even try to fuck with you while we’re around.”  
“Inquisitor,” he put a hand to his chest, “Who knew you had such a way with words... or facial expressions.”  
I nodded, trying and failing to suppress a smile at my own expense, “There’s the Dorian I know.”  
I left it there, knowing that if I were in his shoes I’d need time to digest how everything had unfolded. I just wanted him to know he was supported while he did that.  
“Let’s get you home,” I said to him, spurring Elgar’nan back to a gallop. He followed suit with Ghilana.  
The Harts loved the running as there wasn’t much space for them to do so at Skyhold, they even maintained their gait through the mountains where horses would have had to be much more cautious. As I always said, the only place a horse was better than a Hart was where a Hart’s horns didn’t fit. We even made it back to our castle before sundown.  
Dorian dismounted, patted Gil, gave me a look, and walked towards the keep. I occupied myself with removing saddles and storing tents. I gave each of our mounts a bucket of oats and refilled their water troughs before I too headed into the castle.  
As I passed by the door to the stairway, I could not resist going to check on my friend before calling it a night. I found him in his usual nook, but the book he’d been reading lay open on a small table, pages face down, and he was staring out the window at the setting sun.  
As I watched him a part of me thought I should stop pestering him. It told me that I’d made a fool of myself trying too hard to make him feel better earlier. That I should probably not have come, he needed space.  
Just then he looked over his shoulder at me and I couldn’t just awkwardly walk away so I approached him where he was leaning on the windowsill.  
“Are you all right?” I asked softly, it was all that was left to say.  
“No, not really,” he admitted. “He’s a good man, my father, deep down. He taught me that Principle is important. He cares for me, in his way, but he won’t ever change. I can’t forgive him for what he did. I won’t.”  
“Back in Redcliffe, you said... he tried to change you?”  
“Out of desperation. I wouldn’t put on a show, marry the girl, keep everything private and unsavory secret and locked away. Selfish of me, I suppose, not to want to spend my entire life screaming on the inside,” he looked so devastated as he talked about it. “He was going to do a Blood Ritual and alter my mind, make me.... acceptable. When I found out what he planned, I left.”  
“Could Blood Magic actually do that?”  
“Maybe,” he sighed. “It could also have left me a drooling vegetable. It crushed me to think he found that absurd risk preferable to ‘scandal’. Part of me has always hoped he wouldn’t have wanted to go through with it. If he had.... I can’t even imagine the person I would be now.”  
He looked back over his shoulder at me. “I wouldn’t like that Dorian,” he said.  
“What your father did was wrong,” I growled, thinking both of Dorian and the elven slave likely to be sacrificed on such a stupid, unnecessary thing. Dorian didn’t need to change.  
“It’s too bad he’ll never understand why,” he lamented.  
He turned from the window to face me directly. “Thank you for bringing me out there,” he said. “Maker only knows what you must think of me now.”  
I didn’t understand that at all. Had he listened to a word I’d said? What I saw was a man whose family turned their backs on him and had now plotted against him twice, to my knowledge. I saw a man who joined the Inquisition because it was the right thing to do, and saved my life doing it. I saw a man who could be wealthy and powerful if he had chosen that and instead he had chosen to live a life true to himself. It took courage and strength to do all of that.  
“I don’t think less of you,” I said truthfully. “More, if possible.”  
He smiled, relieved. “The things you say...”  
“I mean it,” I assured him.  
“My father never understood. Living a lie...” he shook his head, “it festers inside of you like poison. You have to fight for what’s in your heart.”  
The way he was looking at me, Gods, I didn’t know what to make of it. Maybe I was inspired by the bravery I saw in him, or maybe I just couldn’t take the tension between us anymore, but I was going to put myself out there for him to take or refuse. It was begging to be done.  
“I agree,” I said. This time of day most of the usual occupants of the tower were in the Hall having supper. I would not have cared if they’d been around anyhow, the desire I’d been feeling for Dorian eclipsed anything I’d ever experienced before. I took a step toward him. It was deliberate, it was an invitation.  
He stepped toward me in turn. We were this close again. I studied his face. My eyes flickered between his gaze and his lips and he closed what little distance was left between us. It started cautious, a test of conviction. His mouth was sweet and soft and... fuck... he didn’t smell of sweat after two days of riding, just that alluring, irresistible scent all his own. His hand clasped my shoulder and mine found his waist. We pulled away for a moment, each to gauge the others’ reaction. We both found we could not stay separated for long.  
It became passionate, his tongue tracing the Vallaslin on my bottom lip and entering my mouth, his hand coming to rest on my neck, then tracing my ear out to the tip. I groaned into the kiss at that. Is this what he’d been thinking about when he stared? I pulled him into my body, relishing the feeling of his muscled chest against mine. His hand was on the back of my head now, fingers curling but not finding enough hair to hold on to.  
I felt as though I couldn’t breathe. I ground my hips into his, looking for friction, my erection pressing uncomfortably against my leather breeches. I could feel him as well, equally excited.  
But he pulled back. “I see you enjoy playing with fire, Inquisitor,” he used my title provocatively.  
I just stared at him, if he was afraid I was going to get burned it was not a concern we shared. I was a warrior, after all, I could take it.  
“At any rate,” he took a deep breath and a step back and I already missed him. I wanted more. “Time to drink myself into a stupor. It’s been that sort of a day. Join me?”  
“Gladly,” I said. Fine. I’d give him his space. He deserved it after what his father had put him through.  
He shuffled some books around and pulled a bottle of wine and two goblets from the shelf. I chuckled a bit.  
“Was that always there?” I questioned.  
“No,” he said playing coy, “I replaced the old bottle last week. One never knows when he might find a piece of history in these books that warrants a drink.”  
“And the second goblet is for...?”  
“Hoping one day you’d join me.”  
He poured generously into each cup.  
“Well now I feel guilty for making you wait,” I said taking a gulp. It was sweet, similar to the way his kiss had tasted.  
“Quite rude of you, I agree,” he grinned at me deviously. It did not help ease my arousal.  
“What’s rude,” I smirked back at him, “is breaking off something like THAT and then shamelessly flirting with me while I’m still hard.”  
He just took a long drink from his cup, but there was an air of satisfied arrogance to the way he did it that let me know he knew exactly what he was doing.  
“If this is what you wanted, why did you leave the tavern the other night?” I asked, it still nagged at me.  
He was already refilling his drink and topping mine off. Stupor indeed, Dorian.  
“I was... surprised.”  
“What?”  
“You had never flirted with me so openly before that,” he clarified. “I wasn’t sure until that night that my attraction to you was reciprocated.”  
“Dorian,” I was embarrassed to say it but I’d already had enough wine to loosen my tongue. “My attraction to you has been consuming me for weeks. I wasn’t sure you’d be interested until Bull started antagonizing you.”  
“Weeks?” he laughed. “I was quite sure you hated me after we met.”  
“I hate Tevinter. I AM an elf as you’ve likely noticed,” I said, gesturing to my ears. “YOU have defied my expectations of what I thought your country had to offer.”  
“Yes, I’m well aware of what you are,” his eyes crinkled in amusement. “And I’m certain you won’t let me forget. But an elf is not ALL you are, Amheotil, you are also the Inquisitor, another reason to give me pause.”  
He rarely addressed me by my first name. Hearing it brought a smile to my face, but I was concerned by his insinuation that my status in the Inquisition could keep us apart.  
“What are they going to do? Cut off my Marked hand and give it to someone else?”  
“Who knows,” he chuckled. “They might try.”  
“Would you still take me as a lover with one hand?” the wine was now asking the important questions.  
“Are we lovers now? By Bull’s standards I thought we had just become closer as comrades.”  
“Did you ever...?”  
“Perish the thought,” he retorted immediately. “He is quite the well built fellow, I’ll give him that, but I do not imagine there’s much tenderness to him.”  
“And you imagine there is with me?”  
“I imagine it’s there somewhere,” he said, studying me once more, “and I relish the challenge of trying to find it, should I decide that this is at all a good idea.”  
“Why wouldn’t it be?” I challenged him.  
“First, there is the concern of an evil Darkspawn Magister out there, right now, with a plot we know nothing about. We could both die horrible deaths at the hands of any of his followers on any given day,” he emptied his second cup and began pouring a third. “Second, as I’ve said, there’s your position at the head of an entire political and military force, which could be threatened by having relations with the evil Tevinter, who of course has wormed his way into your midst to steal your soul.”  
I laughed at that, taking the bottle and refilling my own goblet.  
“Is there more?”  
“Third,” he leaned across the little table between our two chairs and spoke in what could only be described as a purr, “The entire castle would hear you screaming my name. We can’t have that, can we?”  
And just when my erection had settled down, he went and said something like that. My dick twitched, begging to be in his soft, sweet mouth. I actually had to lean forward and pinch the bridge of my nose to stop the images in my mind. I remembered when I had said I would kill him? Why hadn’t I done that?  
“I take it all back,” I groaned into my lap.  
“Hmm?” Dorian vocalized, casually sipping his wine, clearly entertained by my distress.  
“The people of Tevinter are ALL cruel,” I joked. “You are what they say, an Evil, Evil Magister.”  
He cocked an eyebrow at me and grinned. I couldn’t help but follow suit. Stupid, smug, sexy arsehole. I drained what was left in my cup.  
“I need to be more drunk,” I said, refraining from adding a hearty ‘to put up with this without bending you over my chair’.  
“And THAT, was exactly what I wanted to hear,” laughed Dorian who got up and pulled yet another bottle from the bookshelf, the first apparently emptied.  
“How many of those do you have in here?” I was suddenly skeptical of my surroundings.  
“Enough to cover us for quite some time.”  
“And how long do you plan to torture me?” I asked.  
“For as long as I can resist you.”  
In an hour or two, I imagined, I was going to cum incredibly hard, alone in my chambers, those words echoing in my head.  
“Be warned,” he continued, “as a mage I have superlative willpower and self control.”  
I groaned and shifted my weight uncomfortably in my chair. “Is this at least making you feel any better?”  
“Yes it very much is,” he said so with such a handsome smile that I forgave him for all of this immediately.  
“Glad I could help.”  
He was right, of course, there were a number of legitimate concerns about the two of us entering a relationship of any kind beyond friendship. Dorian wasn’t a liar, I’d know, but some small minded people still thought he was a spy, and would believe I was an idiot for letting myself be seduced by him. I also believed he wanted to return to his homeland one day and attempt to make it a better place, but I certainly couldn’t imagine myself stepping foot in Tevinter, that would likely be the end of it. There was also the matter of the Iron Bull. Would this hurt his feelings, did he harbor more than lust for Dorian?  
Then I tried to imagine losing him on the battlefield, having to carry his body back up the mountain to... what? Bury him in Skyhold? Send him back to his awful parents to be buried in Tevinter? That image caused me no small amount of pain, and at this stage he was still just the very attractive friend I’d made out with once.  
I drank from my cup until all of those thoughts became fuzzy little things, twinging at the sides of my mind but unable to take solid form. I didn’t want concerns, I didn’t want responsibility, I had never asked to be Inquisitor and AS the Inquisitor I believed I should be able to choose whomever I wished.  
But even through the wine I knew he had to choose it in return. Being a noble he had more appreciation for the effects of a scandal than I. In a Dalish clan a ‘scandal’ meant the other elves picked on you with smiles on their faces before they asked if you were all right. In a court, it seemed to be taken more seriously.  
Leliana appeared in the stairway, apparently she had been in the rookery the entire time.  
“Inquisitor,” she gave me a wry smile as she walked by. Of course my spymaster had heard, and likely seen, the entire exchange from start to finish.  
“Care for a drink?” I offered her, laughing because I knew she knew and at the moment that was quite funny to me.  
“That is a very kind offer,” she politely refused. “And it is good to see you smiling.”  
She inclined her head to my companion, “Dorian,” she acknowledged him and then continued on her path down the next flight of steps.  
Leliana had a good heart, I didn’t believe she’d be one to hold this against me. She had mistrusted Dorian in the beginning, as I had, but I knew he had helped her gather information about Qarinus and the Venatori and who might be scheming against us and I believed she now saw him as a valuable ally.  
“Well,” Dorian began, “At least a spymaster should know how to keep a secret.”  
“Ha! No way,” I said in earnest. “Josie will know before the sun rises and Cassandra will know before it sets tomorrow.”  
He looked a tad perplexed at that.  
“They SHOULD be able to keep it between the three of them,” I said to reassure him.  
I don’t think it worked.  
“I mean,” I continued, drunkenly poking fun at him, “we could have taken this to my quarters ages ago, but YOU made a decision.”  
“Ha! Quite right,” he chuckled a bit and cocked any eyebrow at me.  
This was the first time I was not in control with a desired partner. Usually I was the seductive one, the measured one, the one making someone else beg for me. I wasn’t going to beg for Dorian, I still had my pride, but we both knew he could have me whenever he wished it. I was not going to pretend differently and he wasn’t going to let me.  
I was in unfamiliar waters but I thought I rather liked the adventure.


	13. The Silver Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two things of note in this chapter:  
> First, at the start of this playthrough, I fully intended to romance Dorian but flirted with Cassandra because in my female playthrough it hadn’t been an option and I just kind of wanted to see what it was like. I did not expect her to later need an official breaking off, but hey, it had to happen.  
> Second, I’ve spent a lot of time digging into the Elvhen lore in DAI and I thought it was a really cool tidbit to put in the game that you could actually go find Evanura, but as it’s not an actual quest, much of this is my imagination.

It turned out not jumping directly into bed was the most fun I’d ever had with a partner. We would catch each other alone in corridors or sneak into each other’s tents in the field after our companions were asleep. Once, in a room full of people, he bit the tip of my ear while no one was looking, but when they turned around I could say for certain that my face must have been something to behold.

I was sure not if everyone knew about the two of us yet but everyone HAD noticed my mood changing. The grim, brooding Herald had become a light hearted Inquisitor. Leliana had told Josephine, as I’d predicted she would, and the first time I’d walked through her office afterward she had clearly not known what to do. Her eyes went wide and she was trying to suppress a grin and look busy with her papers. I had just wiggled my eyebrows at her and grinned, she laughed. I had invited her to my quarters to speak later and when we had, the conversation was effortless between us. She had regaled me with tales of growing up as a young noblewoman in Nevarra, vented about the frustrations of dealing with pretentious and entitled people day in and day out, and let me know that she herself was bisexual and saw no shame or indecency in my newfound relationship.  
She also gave me some friendly advice on how he and I might proceed with caution, while she attempted to quietly build trust in him within the keep.

“You would do that for me?” I had asked.

“It would be a pleasant change of pace for me, and between Leliana and I, I imagine it’s quite an attainable goal,” she had responded, eyes alight with intrigue.

I had always known the Inquisition would have been hopeless without Josephine’s connections, but I had not known how much I appreciated her as a person until she dropped all of the courtly formality.  
Whatever she had started that night even seemed to be working. People around the hold no longer shot so many sideways glances at Dorian.

Today I was on my way to speak to the requisition officer about a shipment of wool we’d received, which I believed we could use to make extra blankets for our men in Emprise Du Lion, when I saw Cassandra for the first time in a long while. She was swinging her sword heavily at a training dummy.

“Inquisitor,” she said when she saw me, “May I... speak to you a moment?”

Cassandra, the woman who had had me chained and the woman who had become my most ardent defender. I adored her, I really did.

“Any time, day or night,” I said as I approached her.

“I’ve heard... some rumors,” she started, wringing her hands.

I nodded for her to continue, but I dreaded this conversation.

“... That you and Dorian are.... involved.... romantically,” her face looked slightly hurt, hearing it from Leliana she had to have known it was true. I was glad for my foresight in never having exploited her attraction to me. I had thought this would hurt Bull’s feelings, but I hadn’t even considered hers. That made me ashamed of myself.

I considered telling her it was nothing serious, as it hadn’t become THAT yet, but that would have been evasive and dishonest.

“It’s true,” I told her apologetically.

She took it with all the grace and strength I loved her for. No judgement, no tears shed, only a brief warning to be careful with it.

I thanked her and promised her I would be before I continued into the requisition office.

With that task accomplished I had nothing pressing left to do with my day. Of course, there were always pressing matters for the Inquisitor, but the Empress’ ball was still a week away and no leads Leliana had found on the Wardens had turned up anything useful as of yet. Cullen’s forces only ever grew and our presence across Thedas was well established. What I did this afternoon wasn’t going to ripple across the entire Inquisition.

I retrieved the tome of the Silver Knight I had found in a ruined little village in the Exalted Plains from my quarters and made my way to where Dorian was seated in his usual chair. He raised an eyebrow at my arrival but did not look up from his page.

“May I?” I asked, gesturing to the chair opposite him.

“How many times must I tell you that the Herald of Andraste should not have to ask?” he said wryly, still refusing to look up. 

I smirked and sat with my own book. When I’d first laid eyes upon it amongst the rubble and read the note where the author described “knowing stories even the Dalish did not” I had been skeptical but intrigued. The “Exalted Plains” as the humans had called them had been a hard place for me to visit, Dorian sarcastically remarked on the name meant to honor the ‘great’ victory over the elves. I had felt immensely grateful for that, he must have known that where Sera felt no attachment to this land, I felt loss and sorrow.

These pages were about the last stand of the Second Exalted March, from the human perspective. The song of Ser Brandis of Orlais, not Linduranae the Emerald Knight.

We had never learned that our people were given the chance to yield. To live. They had refused, even knowing the battle could not be won they had died to show the human forces the strength of the elves. Part of me called that foolish pride, part of me imagined I’d have done the same.

I read the passage over and over. I was certain it was describing Linduranae, but the song claimed she had not been felled by Ser Brandis, but rather an arrow. He had mourned her. He had taken her sword, though the Shems had not known it was called Evanura, and placed it beneath a tree. What was that supposed to mean? There were not many trees in the Exalted Plains.

‘He carried it Easterly,’ the book said. My brow furrowed. The Dalish had never recovered Evanura. It would be a valued treasure of our people if it could be found. But it could not be as simple as this. The Emerald Graves? The Vallasdhalen? Of course, the Dalish would never have seen a copy of this manuscript, but could it be so simple as that? Had he carried it to the tree marked for her, and, what? Buried it there?

I had visited the Vallasdhalen before, I had sought out Keeper Hawen’s clansmen, regrettably finding them dead. Of all the places we’d traveled, the Emerald Graves had been my favorite. Standing beneath those trees, still growing and breathing after all these centuries, it had brought me great peace. The sad and tortured history of the elves was just that. History. It should be learned, but also accepted as something that could not be changed. What was important was how we could raise elves back up as we moved forward. I imagined if this book spoke true, and Evanura were available to recover, it would sound a cheer across all our people, maybe even the ones in the cities.

My mind jumped for a moment, and I imagined Dorian could be of aid in that particular endeavor too. A Tevinter, with a Dalish elf? We could show the world what was possible if we’d only stop to judge a person by their deeds instead of their heritage. It was either going to be a tale of triumph or tragedy. Though maybe I should ask him if it would even be out of the ordinary, perhaps it was commonplace in the Imperium, I’d been wrong about so much else of his homeland I felt I should stop making assumptions.

I looked over at him to find he was staring at me, which was a bit startling.

“What?” I asked.

“I have never seen you with a book in your hand,” he explained. “At first I’d thought you were here to mock me, but then you actually started reading it.”

“How generous of you to assume I wasn’t just admiring the pages.”

He chuckled a bit at that. “The look on your face suggested you understood at least some of the words,” he teased, “Anything interesting?”

“Yes, actually,” I admitted. “If the author is to be believed, and it hasn’t already been taken by anybody else, I could go on an adventure and attempt to locate Evanura.”

“The... entire Elvhen pantheon?”

I cocked an eyebrow at him and smiled, shaking my head. It was adorable how close he was to being right. “That is the Enavuris. Evanura is a sword. Legend says it was last held by Linduranae during the Second Exalted March where she died. Then it was lost to us.”

“And the book has a treasure map, does it?”

“Something like that,” I said. “Would you fancy an adventure today?”

“I wouldn’t,” he said, but he marked his page and put his own novel down. “I really wouldn’t, you’re always dragging me off into the wilderness where we are attacked by lyrium infested Templars and over large spiders, but I know how desperately you need the assistance so of course I must oblige you.”

“How desperately I need the assistance?” 

“Yes I’ve grown rather fond of you, if you went off and died on me I might even notice you were gone.”

“Well I’m going to take a ride,” I stated matter-of-factly. “If you would like to come, you’re welcome to, but there will be wilderness.”

I walked down the stone stairway and quite immediately heard a sigh and his footsteps behind me. Varric was by the hearth writing and I was suddenly very excited to see him.

“Varric!” I hissed, “Legendary quest based on some old sheets of paper, potential for ancient Elvhen treasure, venison over a campfire for dinner. What say you?”

“I’ll get Bianca,” he stood up.

“We going somewhere, Boss?” Bull shouted from the table across the hall where trays of food had been set out for Josephine to host some noble or other today. He was helping himself to some free lunch and must have seen me talking to Varric. I walked over to him and took a slice of a bread loaf with little bits of fruit in it.

“Emerald Graves,” I said, taking a mouthful of the sweet bread.

“Sounds good,” he grunted.

I brought a bow with me, my mouth was watering already thinking of the August Ram roasting over the fire. I loved it here. Everything verdant, the scent of moss and fresh water, Elvhen ruins being reclaimed by nature. The way south through the mountains was cold and dismal, entering this valley felt like stepping into paradise every time.

I kept my Dalish delight here to myself. If I’d been on my own nothing would have stopped me from rolling in the lush blanket of ground cover like I was a child. Perhaps after everyone had fallen asleep I’d sneak away and do just that. Elgar’nan bleated and shook his head. There was no hiding his delight. I dismounted, removed his saddle and bridle, and let him lope off through the trees.

“Sun’s going to set soon, we’ll make camp here,” I said to the others.

Dorian was already taking the bridle off of Gil so that he could chase after Elgar’nan. Bull had ridden the Nuggalope I’d bought for him, I think he’d decided to call it Doug. I had figured such an imposing man needed an equally imposing mount and I’d always pitied the horses who’d had to carry him. Varric dismounted his own horse and let her graze nearby, but she was not so brave as the Harts, who were now both completely out of sight.

The four of us each put up our own tents in a circle and Dorian conjured a fire in the center. The sky grew darker but I was still a keen hunter at night, they said elves had better eyes. I retrieved my bow and told them I’d be back.

“You sure you don’t need help, Boss?” asked Bull, though he was already cracking open a bottle of Antivan Brandy.

“I’m sure a Ram would hear you coming a league away,” I shot back. He shrugged and took a swig, then passed the bottle to Varric.

I took off into the forest and it wasn’t long before I encountered a herd of August Rams. The population of them here was massive, they were never hard to find. I moved silently through the underbrush, notched an arrow, and lined up my shot. There was a thrum of my bowstring and a soft *thwack* as my arrow struck the animal directly through the eye. It dropped and the rest of the heard scattered.  
I allowed myself a grin, feeling proper Dalish as I did in that moment.

I dragged the body back to camp and was toasted by my men. I could dress a deer for roasting in less than 15 minutes, blindfolded, it would be no time at all before we were eating. As I worked, carefully skinning and gutting the creature, I listened to my friends by the fire.

“Come on! Just answer the question Varric!” Dorian was pestering, I’d missed the beginning of this conversation.

“My mother didn’t raise any morons, Sparkler, I won’t touch that one,” Varric sounded exasperated.

“You must have an opinion,” Dorian countered, taking a swig of Brandy before passing the bottle on to Bull, who seemed deeply amused by this particular dialogue. “And you’re a dwarf! Completely unbiased.”

“There's no way I'm answering ‘which Inquisition mage is the best-dressed.’ Not for all the gold in Orzammar,” laughed the dwarf.

I turned my head, amused, that was the question? Dorian and Varric being so intent on each other, Bull was the only one who saw me. He smiled and held up the bottle of Brandy. I took a moment away from my dead ram and wiped a bloody hand on my breeches before going around to take a long drink from the bottle and then handing it back and returning to my work. 

“I want a new nickname,” Dorian said to Varric.

“What’s wrong with Sparkler? Not colorful enough for you?” he asked. Bull bellowed with laughter.

“You must know me better now. Or does the moniker you gave me five minutes after we met still apply?” Dorian argued.

Varric made a grand gesture, “I have the eyes of a storyteller, it’s a gift.”

I had not read Varric’s writings but from conversation I knew it to be true. It was why I thought he’d quite like this adventure. I hoped if we actually found something, perhaps he’d write it down.

“So I’m a bit of light you stick in the window sill to impress passerby? All flash, no heat?” Dorian worked it over, “Hmmm.... that’s actually pretty clever.”

“See? Embrace your place in the Universe, Sparkler.”

I scowled a bit over my prey, begging to differ. Dorian certainly was a lot of flash, but I wouldn’t have said there was NO heat. I wasn’t about to express that to the whole of the camp, but he and I had gotten QUITE heated on occasion. I lingered on that thought for only a moment before pushing it back away to concentrate on what I was doing. When I was done I erected a spit over the flames and set our supper to cooking.

“There’s a river back there,” I said, gesturing to the area behind our campsite. “I’m going to get the blood off.”

“Thank the Maker,” said Dorian, “I’ve got to piss and I’m not about to wander off into these Dales alone.”

“Afraid?” Bull teased him.

“That I’d get lost and starve to death, yes” Dorian admitted.

I shook my head and walked in the direction of the river, Dorian on my heels. While I rinsed the blood from my hands and armor he did indeed relieve himself behind a tree, but as I stepped out of the river he latched onto my coat and pulled me into him, displaying a mischievous grin.

“A man who can provide, I see,” he purred.

“You’ve seen me hunt before, Dorian.”

“With a sword... and Sera,” he said. “I did not know you were so proficient with a bow. Makes me wonder what other talents you’re hiding from me.”

I rolled my eyes, though I doubt he saw it in the darkness. I wasn’t hiding anything, he was the one making ME wait, not that I wasn’t enjoying the intrigue.

I leaned over and whispered in his ear, “You can find out any time you’d like.” Then I ever so gently brushed my bottom lip against his neck.

That was enough. He grabbed my face and pried my mouth open with his, our tongues intertwining. His hands explored my waist and up my back. He moved his mouth to the Vallaslin at my throat, tracing the blood writing with his lips and adding a little nip with his teeth. I let my head fall back and released a deep sigh of pleasure, but I couldn’t let myself be lost in him right now.

This time, I summoned all of my self control and pulled away from him first. “All flash and no heat, huh Sparkler?”

He grinned at me, but I shook my head and started in the direction of our camp before I lost my nerve and returned to his lips.

I could hear the others talking as I approached our tents.

“How could you possibly be a spy?”

“Well, it's a pretty easy job. I do some fighting, and drinking, and then once in a while I tell Par-Vollen about it.”

“Heh,” Varric chuckled, “Where's the sneaking, plotting, the subtle machinations?”

“If you do that, everyone knows you're a spy,” Bull explained. “Drinking, fighting, writing notes, that's all it really takes.”

I could see Varric’s face now as he mulled it over. “Shit. You're really the worst Qunari ever or the best. I can't decide.”

Dorian and I joined them, across from one another at the fire. Once again I could enjoy the light playing with his features, casting shadows around the muscles in his arms. I stared at the spot on his neck where my lips had just been, smirking to myself.

We talked, we ate, we drank, and we talked some more for hours into the night. Elgar’nan and Gil had returned to the camp and were lying happily with Varric’s horse and Bull’s Nuggalope. What was left of the Ram at the end of it I wrapped in scraps of cloth and stored for tomorrow. There was nothing left of the Brandy to store.

Bull and Varric turned in for the night, as did Dorian, though not before he gave me a last come hither look. As tempting as it was to follow him into his tent what I really wanted was to be out here, in the ancient wilderness of my people. I was, after all, on a journey to find a lost piece of our culture.

I felt I had set up my tent for appearances, really, I had known I wouldn’t want to use it. It was always warm in this valley, even at night. I walked over, instead, to where my Hart lay and leaned my back up against him, nuzzling my face into his fur. I knew they caught him wild, he’d been so skiddish when he’d first arrived at Skyhold and had almost definitely never seen a saddle before. Maybe he had recognized me as kin or maybe that brief fling with the Lavellan clan’s Halla Keeper had taught me more than I thought, but we were bonded now. A small whistle and Elgar’nan was by my side. If the Inquisition disbanded tomorrow and I could only choose one thing to return home with, it would be him.

A small voice nagged me at that thought. Dorian? it asked me. I sighed. I could hardly take a Tevinter lover back to my clan. Dorian was not even my lover, we were simply having fun as two men who enjoyed each other’s company and generally making out, it was hardly a promise of forever. I couldn’t imagine him living in the forest or showing up to my whistle, though that last part would be mildly entertaining. No, I pushed the nagging voice away, Elgar’nan was a much safer bet.

I fell asleep to the sound of his breathing, two untamed beasts in the soft undergrowth.


	14. Evanura

“That has got to be the most Dalish thing I’ve ever seen,” I awoke to the sound of Varric’s voice. I was still snuggled into Elgar’nan’s fur.

As soon as I moved he stood and trotted off to begin grazing with Gil. The loyal beast hadn’t wanted to wake me. His personality never ceased to amaze me.  
I stood up as well, just shrugging at Varric. “I am Dalish.”

“What’s the plan, Boss?” asked Iron Bull who was eating some of last night’s Ram for breakfast.

“We’re not far from the Vallasdhalen, we can leave the mounts here and walk.”

“If we absolutely must,” Dorian pretended to complain.

Before we departed I approached Elgar’nan, who was watching a nug hop through the brush. I clicked my tongue and he turned to make eye contact.

“Stay with Gil,” I pointed to Gil, “and the horse,” I pointed to the horse, “at the very least, if a bear comes along you can outrun it.” He huffed and bobbed his head.

“I stand corrected,” Varric spoke up behind me. “THAT is the most Dalish thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Doug!” Bull shouted to the oafish animal who lazed by a tree root nearby, “If a bear comes along, kick its ass.” And to my surprise Doug actually acknowledged him with a grunt.

“Why do you call him Doug?” Dorian asked as we all started walking toward the river.

Bull chuckled. “I knew a gorgeous tavern wench once, teats like you’ve never seen before. Turned out she had a cock, that was exciting,” he smiled, apparently remembering. Dorian, Varric, and I all looked confounded, as this had taken an abrupt turn.  
“She had a dog named Doug,” he continued, “She taught him how to be part of her dance. Doug the dog. I liked that dog, I liked that girl.”  
He clenched a fist, smiling, and stopped walking to declare, “Now I have Doug the Nug. A Battle Doug.”

“A Dougalope,” laughed Varric.

“Ha! Yes!” Bull heartily agreed. “The Bull’s Chargers accept it as partial payment from the Inquisition.” He shot me a grin and I returned it.

When we came over the ridge into the grove where the trees had been planted for the Emerald Knights, we saw a massive Giant. Must’ve missed one the last time we’d been here, that or the Venatori had replaced the ones we’d felled.

“Wouldn’t be a good story without a good fight,” Varric said, unhitching Bianca from his back.

Iron Bull smirked and nodded, always ready to hit something. 

Dorian seemed less enthusiastic just leaning on his staff the way he was.

For a moment I paused, looking for a way to sneak around it, but quickly abandoned the idea. I came to look for something that I didn’t even know for a fact was here. I couldn’t very well do that with a Giant trying to break me in half. If only the Venatori would fuck off and leave these things where they lived, I wouldn’t have to kill the poor creatures.

I grimaced, drawing my sword. With all of our weapons ready, Bull and I entered the clearing. The Giant didn’t notice until we’d closed about half the distance between us, but when it did it pulled a boulder up from the earth and hurled it in our direction. Both of us sidestepped the projectile and charged in to swing at its legs. A bolt of lightning snapped the air and the Giant was left momentarily paralyzed, giving Varric time to make a perfect shot at its face. He moved in closer and kept firing, and with a mighty roar the Giant tried to take a swat at him. Bull got in the way and swung his battle axe into the Giant’s arm, leaving a bloody gash. I was behind, cutting into its heels with my sword, Gods they had such thick skin.

Dorian was releasing strike after strike, elegantly moving with his staff as though choreographed. I suddenly realized with horror that it was not only the one Giant we were facing. Another must have heard the roar of the first and come to investigate, because it was about to kill our mage. With the stomping of the first giant, the footsteps of the second had gone unnoticed. Dorian was realizing too late that he had been flanked, a hand larger than his entire body was bearing down to crush him.

I abandoned the first Giant’s legs and sprinted towards him, putting myself and my shield between him and the blow, but I did not have time to brace for impact. My shield took the brunt of the impact, but my face took the brunt of my shield. My back smashed into Dorian’s body, knocking us both to the ground. My vision went white for a moment and when it returned I was trying to blink blood out of my eye and all I could hear was high pitched ringing. Dorian was back on his feet casting a barrier around us and Varric, who saw what was happening, had tossed a jar of bees at the feet of our second Giant. I stood, a little light headed, tasting blood in my mouth. Dorian reached out a hand to steady me. The Giant was being stung by a hundred angry bees and had moved away from us in an attempt to flee the swarm. Sera, you mad genius, thank you.

The first Giant had fallen to its knees and Iron Bull delivered the killing blow to the back of its head, roaring in triumph and turning on his heel to run after the second one.

“Are you all right?” I asked Dorian.

“I think I should be asking you that question,” he said, his face warped by no small amount of concern.

“This? This is nothing,” I smiled at him, fairly certain my mouth was full of blood. He looked as if he were about to say something else but I was already turning to chase after Bull.

Thwack, thwack, thwack, came the sound of Bianca’s bolts finding purchase in the second Giant’s chest. The bees had dispersed and Bull had cut deep into the Giant’s knee. A ball of fire whizzed by and struck the Giant in the ribs, leaving its flesh sizzling. I got behind it and thrust my sword into the back of its good leg, ripping it out and then slashing again.

Varric was still firing, there had to have been twenty bolts buried in the center of the beast’s sternum.

Dorian released a dozen wisps of lightning that made their way to Varric’s metal crossbow bolts. That must have seized the creature’s heart because it fell then, dead.

“You look terrible!” Bull grinned at me.

“Thanks, Bull,” I laughed.

Dorian pulled a cloth from his robes. “For the blood,” he said as he handed it to me.  
I wiped my face as best I could without being able to see it. I almost felt remorseful that it was such a fine fabric and I was sullying it, but it smelled like him and I wholeheartedly enjoyed that.

I sought out the tree marked for Linduranae now that the grove was cleared.

“What, praytell, are we looking for?” asked Dorian as I found the ancient stone carving.

“I’m not sure.”

I crossed my arms and stared at the tree, the ground would not still be disturbed from a burial hundreds of years ago. I wasn’t positive the sword was here at all, this could have been all for naught. Bandits, Orlesians, scholars, a rogue Dalish who’d failed to mention it... anyone could have already taken what I was searching for. I knelt in front of the marker while the others poked around the area. I tried to imagine I was Ser Brandis, what would I have done with a relic I did not know the significance of from a culture that did not belong to me?

It was always warm in the valley, but it was cold here. For a moment I imagined it was just the lingering woe of an entire race chilling me. But the longer I knelt, the colder it got. My brow furrowed, and I realized with a bit of annoyance that the left side of my face was indeed beginning to hurt.

I used my hands to probe the ground around me, finding there was in fact a cold spot here. I had to pull back the sheet of moss at the base of the tree to reach the soil beneath, where I felt that the dirt was even colder. I scooped it away with my hands and as I did I began to see old, decaying fabric. I stared at that fabric, feeling slightly unable to breathe. If this was really it...

When it was at last uncovered, I could barely believe it. It baffled me that no one had ever found it. I guess we elves were too busy being enslaved or relocated at the time it’d been buried, and the memory of its journey to this place had faded by the time we could search for it.

It appeared Ser Brandis had wrapped it in a shroud and laid it to rest where he thought it should be with the warrior who’d wielded it. I felt more respect for Orlais in that moment than I had in all the time I’d spent in their country. Chevaliers were supposed to be honorable men and women, and Ser Brandis, though long gone, had just proved to me that some lived up to the standards.

Evanura was beautiful. Still glittering silver after all this time, blade cold to the touch, enchanted with Frost Runes.

“Andraste’s ass,” Varric swore in disbelief.

“Glad I could give you something exciting to write about,” I said to him, but I could not take my eyes off the sword. Legend said it had been forged by June, the very god my Vallaslin honored. Tears actually threatened at the back of my eyes.

“I do hope it was worth your face,” was Dorian’s cheeky remark but when I looked up at him he was wearing a warm smile, he almost looked proud.

“Good work, Boss.”

“Thank you all for your help, this means a lot to me.” I said it as their friend, but also as the Inquisitor, a man with power and status. It was easy to forget I was the commander of anything, or a leader to these men. Linduranae had lead her men to their deaths in a battle she knew she could not win. The previous morning I had called that foolish pride, but I felt it now, her cause was just and true. As was ours.

I hoped our cause would not end the same way. I hoped I was not leading these men, my friends, to their deaths against Corypheus. But the sword had a new champion to wield it and I would do my best to be worthy of such a gift. I would fight to the death. I would face Corypheus and his arch demon and cultists and knights, whether or not I was certain of victory, simply because it was right.

And I wasn’t solely fighting in the name of the elves, as she had. As I looked at us, a human mage, a dwarf, a Ben-Hassrath Qunari, and a Dalish elf, I smiled, I fought for us all.

Evanura was mine. I felt invincible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t realize the significance of my party being one of every available race in the game until I wrote this. And I really did look for a way around those Giants, and I really was saved by a jar of bees. Them and their rhino things almost fucked us up.


	15. The Extent of the Damage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea, folks. When it started this chapter was meant to go very differently but this is what came out. The return of a completely made up character (though I do enjoy her and maybe she’ll make more appearances) and a whole lot of Dorian and Amheotil being arseholes that are attracted to each other.  
> I apologize in advance lmao

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me say I will NEVER forgive BioWare for how they animated the male Lavellan body. The man’s been a hunter and protector all his life but he looks like a skinny 16 year old boy? I don’t accept that. You can be thin AND muscular and that is how I choose to imagine my Amheotil, he is a WARRIOR after all.

There were mirrors in the bathhouse at Skyhold. Now that I could see myself my face was.... well.... shit. The ride back had provided plenty of time for the swelling to set in. The area around my left eye, a ring that extended brow to cheekbone, was black with blunt force trauma, the socket also a deep purple bruise. A vessel had burst in the eye itself, giving the white an eerie red tint. The blood was caked on where the skin had broken open, and there was a gash in the left side of my lower lip. My head was pounding and I hadn’t mentioned it to my companions, but by the time we were halfway up the mountains I could barely grip the reins with my shield hand, though I’d not yet removed my shirt to examine THAT damage.

I had a basin of warm water and a cloth and I was attempting to gently remove the excess gore from my face with my sword arm, wincing whenever I found a particularly tender spot.

“Inquisitor,” I heard behind me. In the mirror I could see it was that Felicity girl who did the laundry. “It is good to see y— MAKER! YOUR FACE!” She reacted as I turned to say hello.

I chuckled a bit, though it felt like a knife in the ribs, and shrugged, “My face looks like this so yours doesn’t have to.”

I would always agree with Sera on that, the little people mattered. Fenedhis, I was the little people.

“Well,” she cleared her throat, face still startled and staring, and added unconvincingly, “You’re still very handsome.”

“Thank you,” my voice managing to sound warm in spite of my clawing pain and decrepit visage.

She chewed on her cheek for a long moment, looking like she wanted very badly to say something but could not figure out exactly the words to use. I was growing used to this expression on the faces of the people I spoke with. The whole... ugh... Inquisitor thing.

“Tell you what,” she finally said as she threw a hand on her hip, “you stay right here and I’ll fetch an Elfroot poultice. It... might.... help.”

She trotted off and returned a short while later carrying a fresh basin, a jar of poultice, a jar of powder, a canteen, a clean cloth, and a stool.

“Sit,” she invited, setting the stool in front of the mirror and giving it a tap.

“You really don’t have to...” I tried to refuse but she was having none of it.

“I’ve patched up plenty of bloody boys,” she assured me. “SIT.” It was a demand this time, in very motherly way.

“Are you giving the Inquisitor orders?”

A stricken look flashed across her face for half a second but I had said it without malice and I was already taking a seat. As she realized I was not serious she rolled her eyes and pursed her lips in a gleeful expression, then she shook her head and got to work. She was quiet as she started, giving me only a quick apology that this was likely going to hurt, but it was not too long before she began talking as she worried over my face.

“I’m from Fereldan. Mages and Templars were at each other’s throats out there, until you showed up, that is. Couldn’t even tend the garden without finding a dying man in the backyard,” she chatted. “Robes or plate mail, didn’t matter to me, I’d do my best to help. Even sent a few back home.”

I hissed as she scrubbed off a large chunk of scab.

“Sorry,” she said though she didn’t look away from her task. “It’s all dirty, if I leave it it’ll go bad. The reality is it’s not the wound that’ll kill you, it’s the infection.”

She wasn’t wrong. “I did tell you it would hurt,” she added.

“Don’t apologize, I’ve been through worse.”

“If I may ask, what happened?”

“Giants.... ah!” I flinched again as she pulled another scab from my cheek and scrubbed dirt out of the raw flesh beneath. I closed my eyes, set my jaw, and assured myself that she must be close to done because sometimes you just needed to lie to yourself. “Two of them.”

Her hands paused for a second and she kind of snorted, saying, “Well then I’m surprised you don’t look worse.”

There was an awful lot of dried blood and soil still to come off my brow and I concentrated on my breathing as I endured. The pressure it took to scrub was more pressure than the bruises wanted to bear, and when the grime was off it only meant the nerves were exposed. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Finally I heard her dip the cloth in the basin and felt her give one last swipe over the bruises.

“That’s that, but hold still.”

I opened my eyes and in the mirror I could see she had done good work, removing off all the bits I’d missed or not been brave enough to pick at, but where the scabs had been removed the wounds started to bleed again.

“This stops the bleeding,” she said, dusting the bloody areas with powder, then traded it for the jar of poultice, “and this is for the pain and swelling.”

She applied it as she had done everything else, with deft and nimble fingers, not a trained healer, but a well experienced one. I guess a woman’s hands were better for SOME things.

She handed me the canteen last. “Swish,” she directed.

“What?”

“Your mouth is full of blood,” she shook the canteen at me.

I took a swig and swished it through all of my teeth.

She held the basin out in front of my face. “Spit.”

The water was bright red when I did. I took another swig and spit again for good measure.

“There. That’s....” she faltered. “Well, no, you still look dreadful, Inquisitor. Why were you fighting Giants?”

She was right, in the mirror I could see that my face looked no better, only cleaner and covered in poultice. I considered just telling her it was part of the job, but I wondered....

“Have you heard of Evanura?”

“Evanura...” she repeated, thinking hard. “Is that... hmm... sounds familiar. Is that from the childrens story about the elf knights?”

“Yeah!” I was delighted that a city elf even sort of knew what I was talking about. “It was the sword said to be forged by the Gods in the Ancient Age, lost to our people during the Exalted Marches.”

“OUR people?” she cocked an eyebrow at me.

“What?” I scoffed, “Your ears are pointy.”

“Didn’t know the Dalish set their bar so low,” she muttered.

“Eh, they don’t, but I do.”

She seemed to carefully consider that a moment. “Well what about OUR lost sword, then? And what’s it got to do with Giants?” she asked.

“I found it,” I told her, beaming even though it was rather painful to do so.

“The Giants had an ancient sword forged by the Elvhen Gods? For what? A toothpick?” her face was critical but her tone was light with amusement.

“Well. No.... they were just in the same place,” I clarified with a laugh, “Though maybe Varric could write the story that way...”

“Wow,” she muttered, pondering the idea. “That’s sort of amazing, isn’t it? I don’t... I don’t remember the whole story or anything, but it feels like that’s something important, right?”

I was so pleased to hear her say it. The Dalish, as a whole, judged the elves who’d submitted to human rule and Andrastian chants after the fall of Elvhenan, but I did not share their ire. People made choices. People did what they believed would be best for their families. Life in an alienage was no easier than life in what amounted to banishment, and faced with that impossible choice after our people were conquered, who was to say which was better? In any case, it was long past now, and the only thing I regretted about the decision made by the city elves was that they’d lost even more of our heritage than we had, and we had lost much.

But that was nothing that couldn’t be returned to them. They could still have pride in what they’d come from. Our history was shared, as incomplete as it was.

“Do you want to hold it?” I asked her.

“What?” she exclaimed.

As I rose from the stool she’d given me I could feel every part of my left side searing with the effort of motion. The pain, however, could not diminish my excitement. I breathed through it, as I’d been doing, I knew how to handle agony. I walked, perhaps a bit stiffly, to where my armor lay in a pile, Evanura hidden beneath my coat. I drew it up and gave it one spin in my good hand before holding it out horizontally in my open palms, my wrecked shield arm protesting loudly at the extension.

“You’re shitting me,” she said in breathless disbelief.

“Go ahead.”

She took it tenderly, wondering at its beauty just as I had.

“What was his name? The knight whose sword this was?”

“It was a lady, actually. Lindiranae. They were called the Emerald Knights. Their monuments are trees in the Emerald Graves called the Vallasdahlen. That’s where I found it. The Chavalier that fought her the day she fell, Ser Brandis, mourned her by burying it there.” 

“And you dug it up?!” she whipped her gaze away from the blade to frown at me.

I laughed weakly, my ribs were on fire but this had been my greatest hope in finding the sword. “It used to pass from great warrior on to great warrior,” I explained. “An Orlesian soldier would not have known. He did what he thought was right, very honorable, but there was no desecration in taking it. It belongs to our people.”

She looked relieved at that and smiled, holding the sword out straight in front of her. Her stance was all wrong, but I didn’t begrudge her for not being trained in combat and she did not begrudge me for being ‘too elfy’ as Sera would say. Her face was glowing with childlike wonder. In that moment, I really did find her to be very beautiful.

“Lindiranae,” she tasted the name.

“She had dark hair,” I said, recalling the passage from the Silver Knight.

Felicity beamed at me, her own dark hair braided down her back.

“Was she brave?”

“The most courageous woman ever to step foot on the battlefield,” I assured her, though saying it made me think of Cassandra.

“If I ever have a daughter,” she said as she approached me to give the blade back, “Lindiranae is what I will call her.”

That sentiment lit my heart ablaze. I was so full of joy I almost forgot I looked like I had crawled out of the lake in Crestwood.

“You’re a good man, Inquisitor, and if I may,” she leaned in an gently pressed a feather light kiss to the unwounded half of my face. It felt more sisterly than flirtatious, and rather than feeling awkward I felt at home. I missed my clan fiercely then, I missed moments like this.

She went about cleaning up all of her supplies. “Keep the poultice, apply it twice a day.”

“Thank you again,” I wanted to offer more than thanks, and then remembered the title I carried and why this kind of friendly familiarity had become such a foreign feeling to me. “Should you ever find yourself in trouble, Felicity, don’t hesitate to come see me.”

She gave me a bit of a quizzical look and nodded before leaving me alone with the bath.

I took a deep breath when she was gone. I wanted nothing more than to shut my eyes in the hot springs and ignore that my flesh looked like the filling inside of a sausage casing. Felicity had distracted me, and I was grateful for that, but my headache quickly resumed reminding me of its woes.

I clumsily unlaced my breeches and removed my cloth undershirt, my shoulder screaming as I did. My face was the most immediately visible of my injuries but in truth my entire left side suffered much of the impact. I now saw the extent of the contusions previously hidden by armor. My entire shield arm was battered, the shoulder and upper portion of the appendage were practically black with blood sitting just under the skin and fading into a sickly green shade underneath. The bottom of my shield had scraped my left hip bone. Where my elbow had collided into my side was bruised purple as well. Anything that did not outwardly show signs of damage was wailing just under the surface.

I dropped the rest of my clothes and Evanura back onto my heap of belongings and sank into the tub carved around the hot spring. I hissed as the water touched my tortured skin but once I was through the worst of it the warmth began to soak away my aches. I let my eyelids drop and drifted downward until only my face remained above the surface, trying to will away the drum like beating in my head.

“There you are.”

My eyes sprang open to behold Dorian entering the chamber.

“I was concerned when the healers in the infirmary said they had not seen you, you strike me as the type to attempt to ‘grin and bear it’, as they say.”

“I’m fine” I lied, “I’ve been taken care of.”

“You’re hideous actually,” he quipped.

“Am I? I hadn’t noticed,” I retorted, but I was in no mood for witty japes.

“Yes, you are. Funny, I thought you might remember being swatted like a fly by an enormous, enraged Giant.”

“Dorian,” I grumbled, “I am not in the mood for sarcasm. Please.”

“I am not being sarcastic, you almost died this morning,” he altercated, his face was etched with something hard. Anger? Guilt? I did not know, nor did I care at the present moment.

“Alas, I am alive,” I sighed. “And you’re alive. And I have a throbbing headache and do not feel like arguing right now.”

I leaned my head back and closed my eyes to demonstrate my point. He huffed. Next thing I knew I heard a shuffling and looked over to see he was removing his clothes. His shirt was on the ground and he was working on undoing his bootstraps. His chest was bare, his shoulders rounded with muscle, looking as though he’d been carved out of marble. If this had happened two days ago I wouldn’t have been able to control myself, but if he intended to fuck me as payment for his life, now was hardly the time.

“Dorian, please,” I groaned deeply.

He looked up from his boot, confused, before my meaning dawned on him. “Do you think I’m...?” he realized with exasperation. “No! You disappeared the moment we returned to Skyhold and I have been searching for you ever since, and I will note that it’s a very large place to search. Now that I have finally found you I can at long last have a bath and remove the filth of that delightful forest you insisted on dragging me to.”

I ground my teeth, it appeared Dorian’s mood was foul as well. I leaned my head back again to let him finish undressing in peace, glaring at the ceiling. He slid gracefully into the water across from me.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, though his curt tone suggested it was a formality.

“Awful,” I answered frankly, but returned the formality, “And you?”

“Well, considering I almost cost the Inquisition the one and only person with the means to seal the Rifts and fight Corypheus...”

“Dorian,” I growled, lifting my head to look at him.

“But it’s all right, right? Because he’s not dead, he’s just disfigured,” he continued anyway, eyes throwing daggers back at me. “Yes, wonderful, and if he’d lost his eye I’m sure he and the Iron Bull could get matching head wear, wouldn’t that be fetching?”

“Dorian, enough!”

But Dorian was not one to shut up when something was on his mind. He did drop the sarcasm and set his jaw as he threw his next words at me, “You were knocked out cold, face covered in blood, I thought you were dead.”

“And that makes you angry?” 

“That makes me concerned,” he shot back, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment before letting out a great sigh and explaining.

“You are far more important than I, Inquisitor,” he said my title pointedly, “You must think before you act.”

“Fine, next time I’ll just let you die,” I asserted, I only wanted this conversation to be done with.

He smirked a bit but still looked perturbed. “Thank you, that’s all I’m asking.”

We both sat silently brooding for a while. It might have been hilarious that this was happening while we were both naked together for the first time if it were not so annoying. Did he really think I should have stood by and watched him be crushed? Did he really think I ever would? Did he think I wouldn’t do the same for literally anyone else?  
Perhaps he did not know me at all.

“You saved my life in Redcliffe,” I said because he’d gotten under my skin and now I was stewing. “Everyone’s lives. Do not think you are less important than I am.”

“Is that what this....”

“And it was MY idea to traipse out there, as you so astutely pointed out, you should not have had to die for that.”

“Amheotil I....”

“AND,” I refused to let him speak and anunciated every single word with venom, “we are both. Still. Alive. So you really need not concern yourself with it further.”

He sighed heavily. I was suddenly exhausted, thinking of nothing but my soft, warm bed, and I rose from the water to make my way to it. I was uninterested in carrying on with Dorian and I was too aggravated to be self conscious.

“Maker,” he whispered under his breath. If it had been any other day I might have assumed his reaction was to my lithe musculature or my well endowed physique, but his pained gaze was fixed on my arm, black from wrist to collar bone. Really I was fortunate that my bones remained intact.

I took a towel off the wooden shelf on the wall and, with my good arm, began to dry off. But as I went to lift my injured arm to dry my bruised ribcage a knifelike spasm erupted in my shoulder and I cursed desperately. It was only getting stiffer despite soaking it.

“Let me help you,” Dorian was at my side, wrapping a towel round his waist and taking the one from my hand.

“I’m perfectly capable,” I snarled, still reeling.

“Mm hmm,” he was ever so gingerly dabbing at the area beneath my wounded limb, his brows drawn close together, his eyes anguished but his jaw still clenched.

“I’m not a child,” I grit my own teeth as he started to work on the arm itself, I would not let him hear me cry out again even though every little sensation wrought agony.

“Of course not, but you are injured, and as furious as I am with you for putting yourself in this position,” his words stopped there a moment and then he finally looked up from my arm and dropped his hard expression, “I care for you.”

I let go of my scowl as well, though nothing friendlier took its place.

“The view is not bad either,” he smirked.

“I did ask you once if you would still take me as a lover if I lost this arm,” I momentarily relented to his flirtation, though the audacity he had to possess to start flirting now did not go unnoticed.

“As I recall,” he spoke as he dried my back, “you asked if I would still take you with one hand, which I might consider. The entire arm, though? I’m not so sure about that.”

His hands were moving lower and I let my eyes drift shut for only a moment before I thought better of it, I was still angry and I would not be seduced.

“That’s enough,” I said, taking the towel back from him. “I can manage the rest. Thank you.”

“I’ll get your shirt,” he said.

His body glistening wet and wrapped in a towel was an image I would not soon forget, though at the moment I hated his perfection. As it turned out, however, I truly did need his help getting my clothes back on. He had to slip the sleeve of my cotton shirt over my shield arm first and then onto the rest of me. I could only hold onto the right side of my breeches and when that got awkward he assisted me with them as well. The fingers at the end of my ruined hand were clumsy and I was unable to fasten anything. It only added to my frustration.

Then, because I was struggling with the laces, he made a show of dropping to his knees in front of me to do it for me. My libido, which had previously been conquered by my pain, began to stir. I swallowed hard and told myself not to watch him, but I was failing at that. I’d always had one weakness; a Human man on his knees for me. And it turned out, there was something even more appealing; a Tevinter man on his knees, THIS Tevinter man on his knees. For me.  
I could feel his hands working the strings through the facets, separated from my skin by only a thin layer of leather. I could feel my ears turning red. The pace of my breathing quickened and I could not suppress my body’s reaction.

My head was pounding, my arm was pounding, and now my dick was too. Fucking glorious. I squeezed my eyes shut so I wouldn’t have to see his immaculately built, scantily clad self on the damned ground at my feet. With his face so close to my groin there was no universe in which he would not notice what was happening.

“Should I?” he began to ask.

“No,” I stated definitively, eyes still cemented closed. I felt as though I could feel the vibration of his voice reverberating against my erection, Gods his mouth was so close.

“I could make you feel better,” he offered again.

My eyes shot open and I looked down at him, my expression more pleading than enraged. What did he want from me? He’d been pissed I had saved his life, he’d refused to drop it then tended to me like a babe in arms, now he wanted to suck me off in the Bath Chamber?

“I just need to get some sleep,” it was too much for my concussed head to work through. I took a step back from him, fairly certain the lacing had not been completed, and moved to collect my things off the floor. It proved difficult with one arm but I managed.

He stood up, holding his towel in place as he did.

“If you’re sure,” he said, expression unreadable.

“I...” I started but the words were incoherent in my aching head and my frustration with him was only exacerbating the problem.

“What I am sure of is that you know I’m attracted to you, Dorian. It’s no longer a question, it’s simply a fact. I am sure that THIS could have already happened at any time, so why now? An hour ago you were cross with me for being injured and now you want to.... what? Give me an orgasm out of pity that I’m injured? I don’t understand Dorian.... I don’t.... I....” I took a deep breath before my voice or my mind broke. “I just need to get some sleep.” I stormed off, leaving him there.

I entered the Great Hall for the first time since I’d returned today and I was sure my marred face was not made any more palatable by the scowl I was sporting. I passed by Josephine, who was out of her office to retrieve something for supper.

She sputtered, choking on the wine she was drinking. “Inquisitor?” she coughed.

I stopped for her, and only because it was her. “We’ll talk tomorrow?” my expression begged her to let that be the end of it.

Her own face was full of concern but she graciously let me go, “Yes.... tomorrow, Inquisitor.”

I reached my quarters and dropped my things on the seat near my bed. I suppressed a cry as I struggled out of my shirt and lowered myself onto my mattress. Sleep was calling for me but I already knew waking up would be an excruciating affair. I had just begun using my good hand to pull at the strings of my pants when I heard a knock at my door. I certainly wasn’t standing back up to open it.

“Enter,” I commanded.

Dorian came around the corner holding the jar of poultice Felicity had told me to take.

I groaned. I literally would have rather seen Corypheus himself stepping into the room right now.

“Masal din’an,” I swore under my breath, threatening.

“Let me say first,” he spoke in a much softer tone now, “that I am sorry. The way I just behaved was.... unworthy. I’m only concerned that this morning you demonstrated that you would die for me.”

“I’m a warrior, Dorian, that’s how we are raised. I would die for any of you.”

“I am mostly angry with myself for putting you in a situation to have to make that choice,” he continued as though I hadn’t said anything. “I’d like to be the Tevinter who has no Elvhen blood on his hands. You are the one who made me want that, specifically.”

The tension released from my jaw as the full weight of that sentiment settled on me. As far as apologies went, it was pretty decent, I certainly hadn’t considered it a factor.

“I did not intend to argue with you and I did not mean to upset you. You are the Inquisitor, everyone in this castle depends on you, you cannot go dying for me.... I don’t want you to.”

“As I said, Dorian, I’m not dead,” I rolled my eyes, adding, “Bring that here, would you?” I still needed to apply the poultice to my aching arm, I was actually grateful he’d brought it, not that I was about to say so.

“But you are injured,” he approached, still arguing a lot for a man who claimed he didn’t want to argue.

“Yes. And you feel guilty. It’s your fault for letting a Giant flank you, it’s the Giant’s fault for trying to crush you, and it’s my fault for dragging us out there and jumping in front of you,” I patted the bed on my left side and he sat, looking mournfully again at the damage. “You can make up for it by putting that on my arm. Gently.”

A thin smile flashed across his lips and he did as I requested. He was as tender as he could possibly be and I recalled what he’d said about Bull. ‘I don’t imagine there’s much tenderness to him’. Underneath Dorian’s carefully managed exterior and his absolutely infuriating, never ending sarcasm, there was a soft and loving heart.  
‘I appreciate you.’  
‘For as long as I can resist you.’  
‘I care for you.’  
He’d been telling me all along.

“We were both knocked to the ground,” he murmured as he used his fingertips to spread the paste over my bicep. “I got up. You... didn’t.”

“And you were truly afraid you’d lost me?”

“Yes.”

“Because I’m the Inquisitor?”

“Because you’re you.”

His hand stopped and he looked up at me, eyes drawn in remorse. I took a deep breath and released the tension from my voice before I spoke.

“Dorian, I care for you too. I enjoy your company, you distract me from all the pressure I’m under,” I confessed. “But we are at war. There’s always a chance one or both of us, or one of our friends, is going to die, you know this. You’ve said this yourself. You have to understand what I am. I protect people, I don’t know how to do anything else.”

“I know,” he sighed, “It’s maddening.”

I did not doubt that it was but all I said was “I’m not sorry.”

He scooped more poultice out of the jar and I grunted as he touched my swollen bruises again.

“Are you sure about that?” he teased.

“You know what? I’m not,” I retorted. “IF I had just let you die I would not be in pain and you would not be here to annoy me.”

He looked as though he could not tell whether or not I was serious. I didn’t really know myself as it was not an untrue statement. He worked diligently on covering my arm nonetheless.

“Why would you try to seduce me after adamantly refuting my assumption that you were trying to seduce me?” I asked after a short silence. Though I was not furious any longer, either because I was too tired to maintain my rage or because he had the sense to apologize, I was still baffled by his actions.

“Quite frankly I had given up on searching for you, I was only going down there to try to drown my frustration and Boom! there you were. I tried to bring it up but you would not hear it, so I tried to relax but I could not let it go, and when you stood up... when I saw... this,” he inclined his eyes towards the entire left side of my torso, “I regretted attempting to have the conversation at all. I only desired to ease your suffering. It was silly, really.”

“I agree,” I said, and then finally offered him a sleepy smile. “It almost worked though.”

The poultice was starting to sink in, starting to dull the unrelenting soreness I felt. I yawned.

“I know,” he grinned arrogantly.

I made a noise of disgust. I gave the man one smile and he was back to being a cocky arsehole.

“Speaking of,” he said “are you planning to sleep with these on?” He tugged at the waistline of my breeches to denote his meaning.

I considered saying yes simply to deny him the satisfaction of removing them, but I really did not want them on.

“No, but I can manage,” I said.

“Nonsense,” he replied.

He tugged on them again and I lifted my ass off the bed in allowance, letting him peel them off my legs. He took in the scrape on my hip and was soon adding poultice to that as well. I closed my eyes, so exhausted, but I savored the feel of his fingers tracing the curve of bone there.

He replaced the lid on the jar. “Is that enough?” he asked.

“There’s not enough in all of Skyhold,” I yawned.

He chuckled. I drew my legs up and worked myself under the blankets.

“I’ll let you rest,” he said. “I am sorry for making a bad situation worse.”

“Don’t do it again,” I murmured as oblivion began to claim me.

He said something but his voice was fading. I might have felt his lips on my forehead but I could not be sure. I was drifting away into a deep, black slumber .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorian often gets heated and says rude things he doesn’t mean in the game, so I hope no one feels that this was out of character for him. I’d love to hear your thoughts on this chapter, as I never really intended to write it, but here we are *shrugs*


	16. Undue Influence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra, Josephine, and taking everyone’s favorite cutscene and adding a dash of Day Drinking. Please just imagine that in my game, Amheotil had a fucked up face during this conversation.

My darling Cassandra had heard about my injury and dragged me to the infirmary chastising me the whole way, something about a ‘real physician’. I had not argued, in truth the shoulder was immobile when I’d awoken, a real physician sounded like a bright idea. Getting dressed had definitely been a challenge, to say the very least.

The highlight of the affair was Cassandra’s arrival in the midst of my one handed battle with the lacing at the chest of the loose cotton shirt I was wearing, turning her stonelike expression of concern into a poor attempt to swallow what I would’ve described as a giggle. I couldn’t very well have shoved my arm into one of those stuffy, courtly sleeves on the tunics they’d folded up in my wardrobe, no doubt Josephine’s suggestion. All those buttons? Fen’Harel take me. The shirt had had to come off once we reached the infirmary anyway.

There was a Chantry doctor and a mage healer in the tent, Cassandra waited just outside. As I understood it, the Chantry medic would inspect me for broken bones and the Apostate would imbue my wounds with an energy to accelerate their healing.

“The face has been well cleaned,” said the doctor, “That’s a good start.”

“That’s a girl named Felicity,” I told him. “She works in the laundry, perhaps you’d be able to put her to better use?”

“Mmm,” he considered it, inspecting my bloodshot eye, “perhaps I could.”

He was... less than gentle with the rest of me. I chewed the inside of my lip as he poked and prodded every bruised area. It might have been uncomfortable to have someone trying to feel your bones for breaks on any given day, but when all the flesh that covered those bones had been tenderized as though being prepared for a meat pie? Just breathe Amheotil, I told myself. As he moved up my arm the sensation worsened, setting my eyes to watering. I gripped the edge of the table on which I sat with my sword hand, digging my nails into the wood underneath. Breathe in, breathe out, however, when he cupped my shoulder and pressed a thumb into the end of my collarbone, a mangled cry escaped my throat, leading to Cassandra whipping her head into the tent. I swallowed my pain and gave her a taught smile that she did not return.

“Maker,” she breathed now that she could see more than my face.

I wanted to tell her that that was exactly what Dorian had said, but I was still concentrating on bearing the misery of having my shoulder inspected, the knuckles on my right hand turning white.

“This is dislocated,” said the physician, “but nothing is broken. You’re fortunate.”

Well... that explained quite a lot.

“I do apologize, Inquisitor, this will not be pleasant. Would you like something to bite down on?”

“Can’t imagine what you mean,” I ground out, “it’s been so pleasant up to this point.”

The doctor did not even crack a smile. Right, Chantry.

“I’ll be all right,” I asserted, making eye contact with Cass. “Do what you must.”

Cassandra’s face betrayed her nerves. She looked uncertain whether or not she should stand beside me or look away. I gave her a very small shake of my head to let her know she need not fret.

The physician manipulated my arm into position, Fuck  
preparing for the adjustment, Fuck  
And with a swift, sharp motion I felt the bones grind together, FUCK  
the head of my bone cracking back into its correct location in the socket.

“Fffffffuck!” I hissed, eyes pressed closed, brows drawn in, nose wrinkled. It was an immediate and intense agony, followed by a white hot tingling, an indicator that it would, eventually, subside. “Nnnngugh.”  
I took a few shallow breaths, blinking tears from my eyes. I thought I might have had splinters under the fingernails of my clenched hand.

The mage healer approached me next, thankfully her hands need not touch my skin but rather hover over it. As she began manipulating the energy in my limb I felt a great wave of relief. I’d never had a mage heal me before, my entire life I’d had plenty of injuries but it had always been tonics and rest and the occasional splint, often self applied. The magic was unlike any traditional poultice, it had a sensation all its own. It felt like laying in the sun. It felt like soft grass on bare feet. It felt like when the wind kicks up in summer and you face it head on and breathe in the freshest air you’ve ever had in your lungs. My head tilted back, eyes fluttering shut and mouth curling up in a pleasurable smile.

“Mmmmm,” I hummed, it was the best I’d felt in the last 24 hours. I rolled my neck to look at Cass, who was watching me with mirth, seemingly grateful that my suffering was over. My voice was deep and satisfied when I spoke. “This is much better than the first part.”

The mage tittered a bit at my comment and when she was done casting her spell the pain returned, but it was lessened. I was able to put my shirt back on with much less hardship.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” came Cassandra’s sense of humor. She was, to my great amusement, offering me a flask, which I took with zeal.

“Loads of fun,” my voice was slightly hoarse. I took a shot from the flask, and then another before I handed it back to her. “Let’s do it again real soon.”

She laughed. I tested my shoulder, shrugging it in a circular motion. It was... better. Not great, but better.

“This happened because you’ve been skipping practice,” she teased. “You deserved it.”

“To practice for THIS we’d have to start dropping pieces of Skyhold on each other,” I came back.

“Fortunately, there are plenty of pieces to use.”

We chortled together as we climbed the steps to the Hall. I was not looking forward to my next task for the day.

“Josephine wants to talk,” I said to the ground, eyes wide. 

“No doubt to scold you about your face when your journey to Halamshiral approaches so quickly,” Cassandra suggested.

“That’s what I fear.”

“Are you sure you do not wish to keep the flask?”

I pursed my lips and raised my brows at her in an expression that suggested that might be a good idea, but when she reached for it I held out a hand.

“I’ll be fine,” I sighed. “Thanks for forcing me to take care of myself. I do feel... improved.”

“You had better,” she retorted, “we’ve got demons to fight.”

It was an answer to be expected of a warrior. She squinted her lower eyelids up and gave me a sideways smile. Maybe I’d chosen the wrong person to get involved with after all, I chuckled to myself, if I had to be honest, Dorian was likely the more feminine of the two of them.

“Wish me luck,” I said to her as we parted ways in the Hall.

“Good luck,” she said as she stepped away to speak with Varric.

The court stared at me and I thought I even heard a gasp as I moved across the room. Last night’s mad dash through this hall was more poorly lit and not nearly as lengthy, today people could actually see me clearly. I did not know why anyone should be shocked at the state I was in, I was their Inquisitor, I was here to fight for them, sometimes in a fight you got hit. Sometimes a Warrior has wounds. There was already a scar across my eye when I fell from the Fade, did they think it had never bled?

Who was I kidding? These were nobles. It wasn’t often they had to bear witness to war firsthand. They normally just awarded lands and titles after war was done.

I opened the door to Josephine’s office where she was working diligently at her desk. She looked up and sucked in her breath, much the same as she had last night.

“You look worse in the daylight,” she affirmed my suspicion, lacking her usual subtlety.

“It’s lovely to see you as well, Josie,” I said.

“Varric has already spun your heroic tale to the entirety of Skyhold and I will admit I am eager to see this new sword of yours,” she ignored my jest. “But you do realize that we have a very important event to attend, yes?”

“Just get me one of those masks everyone else wears.”

She smiled at that but remained all business. “You must do everything in your power to heal by then, please, no more Giants until after the soirée.”

“Your wish is my command,” I offered her. “I could not grip my shield right now, even if I wished it. I have been given a poultice to apply twice a day and I don’t know how magic healing works but I’ll go see the mages again, as well, if that pleases you.”

“It does,” she replied. “Thank you, Inquisitor, that is all I wanted to hear.”

I nodded my head in deferment. She smiled warmly and transitioned into being Josephine my friend, rather than Josephine the liaison. “Would you care for a luncheon glass of wine? For the pain, of course.”

Did EVERYONE have hidden liquor on their shelves? Was Skyhold just a harbor for alcoholics? Even Cassandra and her hidden flask, though I thought with quite a lot of certainty that that had been SOLELY for me.

“I would love one... but only if you’ll join me.”

“I suggested it, Inquisitor, because I planned on pouring for myself either way.”

I gave her a wry smile, which did not hurt so much to do anymore.

“And if I may be so bold, what on Earth are you wearing?” she shot a sarcastically judgmental look at my poorly laced breeches and complete lack of a tunic. “You look like a Nevarran pirate without the gold teeth.”

I laughed heartily as I took the cup of wine she was handing to me. “I can’t disagree with you there but...” the shirt was not laced at the chest so I could pull it aside and show her my black shoulder, recently relocated. Her mouth turned down in disgust. “Whole arm looks like that,” I told her.

“And all that for a sword when you already had one,” she quipped.

“Oh Josie,” I sank into one of her armchairs by the fireplace, “You know how men are with their swords. We all want ours to be better than the one someone else has got.”

She sat in the chair next to me with her own goblet, chittering at my innuendo.

“Quite.”

We spent an hour talking and trading sly jokes. Dorian Wright have been witty, but Josephine was sharp as a dagger. Her turn of phrase was that of someone who’d spent years in the Game. She made a point to inform me that this was exactly what I should expect at Halamshiral. I was appreciative of having a chance to practice, as I did not know how I was going to act accordingly. I had little knowledge in the way of the upper class, though, I did tell her, I was quite an excellent dancer. The Dalish danced all the time, it was simply a part of our culture, but in addition to that we had learned formal steps as boys in training. ‘Warriors must know how to use their bodies and move their feet’ I could remember our master shouting at us. I still remember being all of twelve years old, dancing with another boy in the forest, feeling the most foolish I probably ever would.

I’d blame those days for my preference for the male anatomy, but I knew plenty of those boys had never shared my tastes. Not to mention I’d still bedded a FEW women in my time. No, I presumed sexual needs were something of an inherent trait.

After the second glass of wine Josephine set her goblet down. “Well, I must not imbibe too much, Inquisitor, I still have work yet to do.”

“I understand,” I said, setting my own cup next to hers. “Thank you for the company, it was a pleasure, as always.”

She smiled at me and went back to her desk. As I left her office I found my gaze naturally inclined toward the door across the hall, the door that would undoubtedly take me to Dorian, if I so desired. Being slightly drunk as I was, it was a very tempting door. The two shots from the flask and the two glasses of wine had indeed worked to erase the pain from the forefront of my mind and replaced it with a memory of Dorian on his knees in the bath chamber. Dorian’s mouth. Dorian’s mouth so very close to my cock. I hated Dorian. I hated him for always appearing in my mind this way, yet I would loathe for him to go. Because I adored Dorian. I loved to hate him, and I wanted to love him.

That. Fucking. Door.

I marched across the hall and opened that door, liquid courage coursing through my veins. Horrible decision, but I made it confidently.

As I climbed the stairs I could already hear his voice. I was grinning at how stupid I was going to look showing up to him drunk this early in the afternoon. He’d probably find it entertaining.

Oh no. I COULD hear his voice. And I could have recognized that snide argumentative tone if I’d been standing in Val Royeaux.

“If I wanted to play the fool I could be rather more convincing, I assure you,” he was peacocking. I rolled my eyes, what now? Who? Who was he arguing with?

“Your glib tongue does you no credit,” came Mother Giselle, causing me to blink in disbelief a few times. I didn’t know who I expected but it was not her.

“You’d be surprised at the credit my tongue gets me, your Reverence,” he snapped back.

Mythal have mercy, all right, it was time to intervene. I approached from behind and Mother Giselle saw me first.

“Oh,” she uttered, looking first at my hideously bruised face and then back at Dorian, “I....” she clearly did not know what to say.

“What’s going on here?” I asked, in fact I was truly curious.

Dorian spoke instead. “It appears the revered Mother is concerned about my ‘undue influence’ over you.”

I wanted to laugh but Mother Giselle was already spitting back.

“It is a Just concern,” she turned towards me, “Your Worship you must know how this looks?”

Once again, the wine started asking the important questions: Did somebody see us in the bath last night? Was she worried about the part where we were both men? Or the part where he was from Tevinter? Did she know we had not had sex? Was this the scandal Dorian had been so concerned about? How was I going to survive Halamshiral if I couldn’t even handle what was happening in my own court? Why had I opened that door? Why had I walked over here and put myself in the middle of this? 

This was exactly the reason I’d been in the infirmary just three hours ago: getting between Dorian and something that wanted to harm him.

“You might need to spell it out, my dear,” Dorian told Giselle as if he could read my mind.

“This man is of Tevinter, his presence at your side. The rumors alone....” she said to me.

Oh, it was the Tevinter thing. Hadn’t we had enough of this? I was an elf. A Dalish elf. Dalish, the ones who were driven from their ancestral lands by HIS people, and I had forgiven his being a Vint ages ago. What was everyone else waiting for?

“What’s wrong with him being from Tevinter?” I asked. “Specifically?”

“I am fully aware that not everyone from the Imperium is the same,” was all she said. That did not help me understand.

“How kind of you to notice,” Dorian feigned flattery. “Yet still you bow to the opinion of the masses.”

“The opinion of the masses is based on centuries of evidence, what would you have me tell them?” Mother Giselle addressed him.

“The truth,” he said. I cheered that sentiment internally. Dorian was a lot of things but a liar was not one of them.

“The truth is I do not know you and neither do they,” she said to him and then turned her eyes in warning to me. “Thus these rumors will continue.”

What rumors? I thought this was about him being from Tevinter? Which was, of course, not a rumor at all, but a fact. Did my drunk brain miss something?

“I’d like to hear what these rumors are exactly,” I said in earnest.

“I..... could not repeat them, your worship,” she looked stricken.

Oh. OH. Well that brought me all the way back around to asking what somebody had seen. I knew Leliana wasn’t flitting about gossiping about our night in this very tower. Actually, come to think of it, we hadn’t ALWAYS been the most careful about where we chose to throw each other up against a wall, I guess it wasn’t all that shocking that someone had seen something.

Waaaait a minute... “Repeat them?” I asked. “So you’ve shared them before?”

“I see... I meant no disrespect, Inquisitor, only to ask after this man’s intentions” I had not meant to sound accusatory. I was sincerely curious as to what people were saying about Dorian and I. “If you truly feel he has no ulterior motive, then I humbly beg forgiveness of you both.”

She bowed her head and began retreating backwards before finally turning to walk away. I still only had a vague idea of what was going on. Dorian was standing there with his arms crossed.

“Well that’s something,” he scoffed.

Since when did Dorian care about Mother Giselle’s opinion of all people? “Don’t listen to her,” I said. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

To be fair, I only said that because I didn’t know what she was talking about.

“She does actually,” he countered. “There ARE rumors and her concern is well meaning, if misplaced.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I shrugged. I might not have known what the rumors were, but I hardly cared about them. I had Josephine on my side, no one was better at handling these things than her, I’d just tell her to fix it and she would.

“Listen to you,” Dorian chuckled. “It’s good to be the Inquisitor.”

I rolled my eyes at him. He turned towards me and took a more serious tone. “It does make me wonder; is my influence over you... undue?” 

He was quoting Mother Giselle’s words. I thought back to yesterday’s argument with him. He certainly had a power over me. He was in my thoughts waking or sleeping, I wanted to be near him, I HAD nearly died for him. And every so often I wanted to push him off the side of the mountain. I thought back to how afraid I was that that letter from his father might have caused him to return home. I had dreaded his absence.

“Perhaps,” the wine admitted for me. “But it’s the kind of undue influence I enjoy.”

“No one accused you of being politically astute.”

“Ha! Not today,” I laughed. More along the lines of Not Ever.

He laughed with me. “I tease you too much, I know.”

“Yes,” I agreed. Oh I agreed so much. But I wore a smile on my face as I did.

He gave me his own mischievous grin. “I’ll have to find something we can do that doesn’t involve teasing. Soon, ideally.”

He strolled back to his chair and his book. I was entirely used to his teasing by now. The way he did it you’d think leaving a man sexually frustrated was just a hobby he had. And unfortunately for me, it was a hobby he was rather good at.

I had no business other than healing to attend to, by Josephine’s orders. I waltzed over to where he’d sat himself and leaned on the windowsill.

“What ARE the rumors?” I had to know.

“Oh, the assumption in some corners is that you and I are.... intimate.”

It was all I could do not to openly cackle. Of course, it was somewhat true. Not as intimate as I’d like to be, but intimate enough.

“Well, those rumors assume I’m more seductive than I am then. I’ll take that as flattery.”

“Oh you’re quite seductive,” he admitted. “But I do seem to remember telling you that I have superlative willpower and self control.”

“You did,” I said. “From that exact chair if I recall correctly.”

“Seems you’re right,” he agreed. “How are you feeling, by the way?”

Having my injuries mentioned made me remember through the alcohol that I could feel them.

“As it turns out, my shoulder was dislocated, so Cassandra dragged me to the physician who shoved it back into place,” I told him. “And then, everyone fed me alcohol, so I’m feeling quite fine.”

“You’re drunk?” he looked incredulous.

“Oh yeah,” I affirmed.

“Right now? Through all of that?”

I nodded, my smile growing.

“That explains the blank stare,” he laughed.

I was snickering. A few people in the room looked my way. I was fully aware that in that moment I was only fueling the rumors.

“I think that what I should do is get more drunk. Josie says I’m not allowed to do anything until after Celene’s thing,” I told him. “I’m going to go find Sera. Join us later if you want some company.”

“If I do it will be only to ensure you do not stumble and fall on your arm.”

“If that’s what it takes to get you there,” I said shrugging and moving away from the window sill to stand in front of him, backing away towards the stairs.

He ran his eyes over me, stopping at my groin and smirking.

“Your trousers are rather poorly laced, Inquisitor.” I remembered him peeling them off my legs the night before.

“Yes well, you weren’t there to help me get them back on this morning.”

I finally turned to take my leave. Sera was going to pick on me about getting hurt for a stupid, elfy sword, I knew she was. But I looked forward to seeing her all the same. I wondered if she knew any good rumors about me.


	17. An Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am absolutely not going to write out the entirety of Wicked Hearts, Wicked Minds. Every time I do that quest I have no idea what’s going on so I could hardly be expected to recount it very well lmao.  
> That said, Dor-Bear (as I lovingly refer to him) has some great dialogue during that whole affair that I still wanted to use. So... welcome to another wacky chapter, kids!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***High level weapons brought to you by the Golden Nug***

The next few days were a bore. Poultice, mage healer, nothing at all, poultice, sleep, repeat. I was healing more quickly than I would have thought possible. My bruises were no longer black or swollen, and the areas that had been green were back to normal. My face had not even formed a new scar. I could actually dress myself and not look like I’d done it high on Dalish pipe weed. I chose to milk the ‘Nevarran Pirate’ look, as Josephine had put it, for the week nonetheless. I never felt comfortable buttoned into Silk Brocade therefore I was quite enjoying sporting my undershirts around the castle.

I spent my time either showing Evanura off to someone who had not yet seen it, walking the trails outside of the castle while Elgar’nan and Gil frolicked wildly through the snow, or in the Undercroft crafting with Herrit. By week’s end I was presenting a Sulevin Blade to The Iron Bull and a Lyrium Infused Bow to my dearest Sera. I WAS marked for June, after all, craftsmanship was a particular talent of mine. Herrit and Dagna both seemed glad to have me visiting so frequently.

For Dorian I crafted a staff out of the finest Everite the Inquisition had to offer. I’d required much more guidance from Dagna on that. Blades and bows were familiar to me, but I was no mage. She helped me work the electricity out of the Stone. She helped me form it in a way that channeled the magic properly. She helped me inscribe it with a masterful Spirit Rune. She expressed an interest in a sample of my flesh. 

That last part was a bit weird, but I seriously considered it after experiencing her knowledgeability surrounding the mystical. If I couldn’t remember where the bloody Mark came from, or figure out how and why it worked to seal Rifts, perhaps SHE could tell me more. I’d ask the council. Or Solas.

I hadn’t seen Dorian for days, not since the Mother Giselle incident. I’d actually been so heavily intoxicated by the end of that night that I’d slept in Sera’s cabinet and I could not remember if he’d ever joined us in the tavern. Today, however, after the mage in the Infirmary did her magic on my arm, I ran into him at the breakfast table.

“You’re looking much better,” he remarked. “Of course, I’m referring to your face, the rest of you is still dressed like a prostitute from Minrathous.”

“Funny, Josephine said a pirate from Nevarra.”

“I’m not certain those are two different things.”

I smiled, he was fun when he wasn’t busy being the worst.

“Do you have a moment?” I asked.

“I should like to eat my breakfast,” he gestured to his plate, “but for you, Inquisitor? I can always spare a moment.”

Realizing I had not eaten yet either, I took a plate for myself and sat across from him at the long, wooden table. Vivienne emerged from the door across the hall, seemingly to find something to eat as well. Her reaction to Evanura had been well educated and well appreciated. Being a Frost Mage herself she’d smiled over the Runes, asserting that it MUST have been forged by a God. As pretentious as I found her, I valued her presence here. Other than Josephine there was no one else’s input on my decorum that I heeded more.  
She sat next to me with her plate, giving me a friendly greeting and an insult on my clothing. Her opinion was ‘Fereldan Stableboy’. I was quite entertained by everyone’s take on my outfits, it made me want to keep the look even after my arm was fully healed. 

As she began to pick at her plate she turned something of a critical eye on Dorian.

“I received a letter, Dorian,” she drawled.

“Truly?” Dorian feigned shock that also sarcastically suggested he did not care, then added a jab. “It’s nice to know you have friends.”

“It was from an acquaintance in Tevinter,” she revealed, measuring his reaction to it as she popped a cherry in her mouth before she continued. “Expressing his shock at the disturbing rumors about your.... relationship, with the Inquisitor.”

I had already spoken with her about the rumors, of course. I’d let her know the truth, Dorian and I were attracted to each other, we were engaged in a good bit of flirtation, but we had not slept together as of yet. She had devoured the gossip, swearing to defend my honor no matter how the situation played out.

“Rumors you were only too happy to verify, I assume,” Dorian was rolling his eyes.

Vivienne smirked. “I assured him the only disturbing thing in evidence was his penmanship.”

Dorian furrow his brow, it had not been his expectation to find an ally in her, surely. “.... Oh,” was all he managed. “Thank you.”

“I am not so quick to judge, Darling,” she smiled warmly at him but warned, “See that you give me no reason to feel otherwise.”

He took her veiled threat with a raised eyebrow and a slight nod, looking next at me. I just shrugged, I’d told him the whispers didn’t matter. And the idea that I had Vivienne as a guard dog filled me with glee, the woman could be absolutely unnerving.

“Vivienne,” said Dorian to break the silence, “perhaps YOU can answer this.... why the bizarre Orlesian fixation with masks?”

I didn’t know where the question came from, I wondered if it was something that had been nagging him, if it had I’d certainly have to admit I was in the same boat. I listened with fascination, my eyes darting to and fro between them.

“It's part of the Game, my dear,” she answered. “You never see your opponent's true visage.”

“A strange custom in a culture where people assassinate each other for putting too much salt in the soup.”

“An additional challenge to be navigated. Fail at the Game and you die.”

“And you people call Tevinter barbaric,” he scoffed.

“You are barbarians, darling,” she sounded disdainful but then added with levity, “but that's part of your charm.”

He gave her a wry smile. I was only shocked that they were getting along so well. The rumors may be losing me favor with the masses but I was witnessing Dorian gain favor among my friends. I hoped it was worth the trade off.

A serving boy came by and took Dorian’s now empty plate and I gave him mine with what was left on it.

“They’re paying you well, yes?” I inquired of him as I handed him the dish. “The Inquisition, I mean.” He did not recognize me, just as I did not think I recognized him. He was so far beneath my station we would have never had cause to interact, but that did not make him any less important.

“What?” he looked shocked that someone who ate at this table would actually speak to him, probably used to being treated as a fixture rather than a person.

“I had asked Sera to make sure all the servants were paid for their work.”

“Sera!” he recognized the name. “I like her, she’s funny! You said you asked her to.....”

His eyes went wide. “You’re the Inquisitor.” It was more a statement than a question, and I just nodded in affirmation. “Oh! Yes! Yes, Ser.... erm.... Your Worship! We’re quite well paid and I’ve got a nice room too, I bunk with one of Dennet’s stableboys. We’re good friends. I like it here.”

I smiled broadly. He was just a kid, maybe 13. I tried to make it a point to check in on my people every now and again lest Sera poison me while I slept. I knew she asked around about these things.

“Thank you for your honesty,” I said. “Now I’ll let you run along before I get you in trouble with the chef.”

He inclined his head in a sort of bow and walked away beaming. I turned back to find Dorian smiling, but with an eyebrow raised, and Vivienne looking slightly more exasperated.

“My dear Inquisitor,” she addressed me, “this is YOUR court and I would never presume to instruct you on managing it, but tomorrow night in Halamshiral, I beg of you, do not speak to the servants.”

I chuckled a bit. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

Dorian stood. “You said you wanted to speak with me?”

I stood as well, nodding.

“Leaving the table together will clear those rumors right up, I’m sure,” Vivienne drawled sarcastically, sporting a scandalous smile.

Dorian pursed his lips at that but I simply rolled my eyes and instructed, “Follow me.”

He obeyed but looked dubious when I lead him to the stairway that would take us to the Undercroft. Somehow I doubted he’d even been through this particular door before. When it was shut behind us he immediately grabbed me by the back of my shirt and tossed me against the stone wall. I grunted a bit at the rough handling of my still lightly bruised body, but having done so much healing it hardly concerned me. It concerned me even less when his mouth was on mine. It was sudden, and I didn’t know where it had come from, but I wasn’t going to complain.

He pulled away, clearing his throat and straightening his robes. “You are quite unlike anyone I have ever met. One day they’ll write history books about you. Boring ones, and they’ll get it all wrong.”

My face must have been lined with shock and a lack of understanding, I hadn’t the faintest idea what he was thinking, but all he did was gesture down the stairs and say “Lead the way.”

So I let it go and did just that. His eyes were full of something like wonder when he finally beheld our forge. Dorian likely did not know how to operate a single tool in the room, but it was a beautiful space nonetheless. I brought him to the rack where I’d left his new staff, taking it off and presenting it to him. I’d told Dagna and Herrit to find somewhere else to be today just so that I could have this moment alone with Dorian.

“I.... made you something,” I said.

“You MADE it,” he repeated sounding slightly cynical, taking the staff from my hands.

“Dagna helped,” I admitted. “But I chose the Everite, I engraved the grip, I fashioned the staff blade. You do remember our talk about my Vallaslin?”

“Ah yes, June,” he recalled. “The same God who made the sword you tried to kill yourself for, if I am remembering correctly?”

I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Dorian if you start that again I swear I will toss you out that gaping hole in the wall.” I pointed towards the waterfall and the open view of the sky beyond the mountainside.

“It’s beautiful, truly,” he said running his fingers over the engravings. They were, in fact, similar to the blood writing on my face, I do not think that was lost on him. “You honor me.”

He tested the weight of it, twirling it above his head and then cracking the butt of it into the ground. In the empty center of the room a bolt of lightning sizzled in the air, striking the stone floor.

“Hmmm,” he vocalized.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing at all,” he said. “You keep managing to surprise me is all.”

“I’ve got one more,” I said.

“Oh?”

“Would you accompany me to the ball at Halamshiral?”

“Dancing with the Evil Magister?! In full view of every noble in Orlais?” he pretended to be aghast. “How shocking!”

A smirk was playing on my lips. “They’ll live.”

He bobbed his head side to side as if considering whether or not they actually would. Then he smirked back at me and asserted “If you could find me ten silk scarves I’ve got a dance that would REALLY shock them.”

I snickered, “I should very much like to see that.”

“I’m sure you would,” he flirted.

I ignored that and inclined my head towards him, “So will you?”

“And expose myself to all that exquisite finery and exotic wine? Inquisitor, how could you ask me to bear such a burden?”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, of course, it’s far more palatable than any other adventure you have forced me to endure.”

“Shut up,” I said as I stepped forward and kissed him. He was tense a moment, no doubt there was a snide remark that my lips were getting in the way of him making, but he soon melted into the kiss. He settled for biting my bottom lip as I pulled away.

I used to feel out of control with Dorian, as though he held all the cards in a game of Wicked Grace and I did not know how to play. I felt now as though I’d learned the rules. I could finally tempt him at his own game. He was my conquest once more, only it was not a single battle to be won as it had been with others in my past. It was a siege. A drawn out breaking down of his willpower. He had warned me, and as I’d said before, he was no liar. Still, the competitive warrior in me relished the challenge of him and I was glad that I had not accepted his advances in the bath chamber. I would not be granted victory in the name of pity. No, if I ever won the chance to take him, I wanted to see the desperation on his face when he simply couldn’t withstand waiting any longer.

The look in his eyes at the moment told me that day might come sooner rather than later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First: the Dalish definitely smoke weed, you can’t change my mind.  
> Second: Inquisitor Lavellan says tip your servers!!


	18. Here Lies the Abyss: Pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As I said, I was not going to re write all of Wicked Heart, Wicked Minds so here is a brief synopsis of how it went down in my game.  
> Then I had to cover the first part of HLtA AND the acquisition of The Magister’s Birthright.  
> So, I hope you enjoy this lengthy ass chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a LOT of editing and I suppose there are still parts that I’m not convinced couldn’t be better, but I’ve been trying to put out a chapter a day. So I hope it’s not too bad and the transitions aren’t too weird.

Celene was alive, Gaspard was banished, and Florianne was in custody. The Empress’ court had been an absolute nightmare for my Dalish self and I still did not understand how no one but Dorian had noticed me climbing their trellis.

Furthermore, I still was not certain I knew the truth of who’d been plotting against the throne. Of course, I’d felt a rush calling out Florianne in front of an entire host of onlookers, HER, I was certain of. She’d openly admitted to serving Corypheus, couldn’t get much more evidence than that. But as far as Gaspard and Briala? Ugh, I didn’t trust anyone in that damned palace. 

Before the evening was over I’d been named Belle of the Ball, which I was told was a worthy achievement. Especially considering I’d brought Bull and Sera along. Josephine, of course, had begged me to do no such thing, but I wanted the Inquisition to be truthfully represented. We did not discriminate here. Josephine, Cullen, Leliana. Those three were my human council, with ties to the Chantry and to Orlais. Sure, I could have packed up Cassandra and Vivienne and appeared the very epitome of THEIR culture, but it would have been a false visage. I was much happier with my decision to bring a Qunari mercenary and a rogue city elf who was seen flirting with the serving girls. And despite my scandalous entourage, the entire court ended up adoring me. I had no idea how I’d managed it.

Still, my favorite part of the entire experience was simply dancing with Dorian on a deserted balcony at the end of the night.

When we’d returned to Skyhold, a reliable tip had been received about Wardens in the Western Approach to be followed up on immediately.

So now we were walking through the desert instead of the halls of the Winter Palace. It was hot, there was sand in my armor, and there was sand in my mouth. I hadn’t wanted the poor mounts to have to traverse this, so I’d left them with Harding even though going it without them was miserable. What did an elf have to give for a tree around here? Even Skyhold had trees and it was seated on a desolate, frozen mountaintop.

Being so full of complaints made me feel like Dorian, who was surprisingly lacking in them today.

I guess we all had too much on our minds for banter, as Hawke and Stroud had deployed to this place as soon as the report had arrived, we were only trying to catch up to them. Not an easy thing to do when it took four days to get here from Skyhold.

They’d sent word to our Scout with a spot marked on a map. “Ritual Tower”. Sounded like a great place, not ominous or foreboding in the least. When we finally reached it, it looked VERY warm and inviting, what with the metal spires and the being precariously perched on a freestanding stone column over a vertigo inducing chasm. Corypheus’ allies could not have chosen a more suitable location for their evildoing. I, for one, was ecstatic.

Gods, I thought suddenly, I DID sound like Dorian.

I wiped sand out of my eye as we approached the two men.

“Glad you could make it, we’ve seen lights coming from the tower,” said Hawke. “Blood magic I’d wager, you can smell it.”

He was right, in the heat especially, this place reeked of death.

“You take point, I’ll guard your backs?” he suggested.

I nodded. Thankfully I was healed enough to hold my shield again. What was left of my former injury at this point was nothing more than a few splotches of color on my upper arm. If this came down to a fight, I was ready, but our primary concern was information. We did not know Corypheus’ plans after Celene. In the Red Future, we had not learned any more than that. That was what we here to do.

We crossed the bridge that lead to the tower. We could see piles of corpses in Warden armor, throats open for the flies, discarded like garbage. The odor was overpowering. I turned my head back briefly towards my companions, poor Sera looked green. She wiped at her eye, I could not discern whether it was tears or sand that made her do it.

As we climbed the steps to the courtyard of the fortress, there was a man begging for his life, a plea that fell on deaf ears. We watched in horror as a fellow Warden drove a knife into his ribcage and I thought I heard Stroud gasp. A man in Venatori garb was speaking to the remaining soldiers. Dorian made a sound of disgust behind me, I did not want to think on how many times he’d witnessed these kinds of displays back in Tevinter. I imagined the stacks of bodies with pointed ears for a moment, and then shook the gruesome picture from my head.

The strangest part of this was the Rift in the center of it all, and as soon as the Warden fell, a Rage demon emerged.

“Bind it like I showed you,” said the Venatori from his place above the rest of us.

The magic pulsating from his hand looked like that of Corypheus, and when the Warden mage was finished with his binding his eyes gave off the same eerie red glow. What was going on here?

“Inquisitor, what an unexpected pleasure,” the Venatori said as he noticed our approach. He made a show of bowing to me, “Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, at your service.”

My lips were curled in repulsion. Did this arse really just introduce himself to me?

“I’m guessing YOU’RE not a Warden,” said Stroud.

The Venatori condescended to him, and demonstrated that the binding ritual we had just witnessed also bound the Warden mages to him, to Corypheus who he called his Master. This was their plan, to turn the Wardens into an army of demon slaves and unleash a Blight? It was worse than our worst case scenario. 

I was furious. Had these men known who controlled the Venatori, they would not have their comrades strewn about as cadavers. Layer upon layer of deceit. And I detested liars.

“Release the Wardens from the binding,” I demanded, threatening. “I won’t ask twice.”

“No,” sneered the Vint prick, “you won’t.”

He lifted his hand, Corypheus’ magic flaring from it once more. My own Mark responded violently. I doubled over as it burned up to my elbow, holding onto the arm with my sword hand to steady myself. 

“Corypheus showed me how to deal with you, in case you were foolish enough to try to intervene,” Lord Livius was saying. I grunted as the pain intensified, setting my jaw and telling myself to breathe through it. What was he doing to me? Would Corypheus be able to do the same when I finally faced him again?

“The mark that allowed you to pass safely through the Veil? You stole that from my Master. He’s been forced to seek other ways to access the Fade. When I bring him your head....”

I couldn’t stand the sound of his voice. Fucking Tevinters. I was not a mage, I did not know how this Mark functioned, but I ignored the pain and stood up straight. I lifted my hand and held it out in front of me, thinking only of tearing apart the Rift in the courtyard. Thinking only of tearing apart the Lord Erimond in the courtyard. The magic seared and crackled beneath my skin as it’s magic intertwined with that of the Rift. I grit my teeth and ripped my arm backward. The portal burst and dissipated, the shockwave knocking his Lordship backward into the ground with a gasp. I was already drawing Evanura, intent on driving it into that Venatori’s heart.

He rose back onto his feet and shouted “Kill them!” as he began to limp away in retreat. The Wardens and their bound demon turned on us. I wanted so badly to chase after Erimond but I could not reach him nor leave my companions to fight without me. With the six of us it did not take long to dispatch our new enemies, but by the time we’d killed them all the Lord was gone and Sera finally lost her shit and vomited beside a stack of crates. She was a fierce woman, Sera, but this much needless death was not something she could take. She was too good hearted for anything like THIS. Bull did his best to comfort her while I spoke to the others.

“Well that went well,” said Hawke.

“You were right,” Stroud directed at him mournfully. “After the Wardens complete the ritual they are enslaved to Corypheus.”

“The Warden warriors?” replied Hawke, but it didn’t take him long to work it out. “Oh, of course, it’s not REAL Blood Magic until someone gets sacrificed.”

Mythal have mercy, I thought as I figured it out myself. He was right. That was the plan. Sacrifice the warriors to produce the demons, tell the Mages to bind the demons, and in doing that they bound themselves to Corypheus. To the Darkspawn. To the very thing they were trying to prevent. Why? Why had the Wardens gone to TEVINTER? Of all the places to seek assistance.

“Erimond lied to the Wardens. He lead them to believe they were going to prevent future Blights,” I was seething.

“With Blood Magic and human sacrifice,” spat Hawke.

Stroud spoke again, “Hawke, they made a mistake but they thought it was necessary.”

“All Blood Mages do,” he said scornfully. “Everyone has a story they tell themselves to justify bad decisions, but it never matters. In the end you are always alone with your bad decisions.”

I didn’t disagree with him. If this were the solution proposed to me, I felt as though I’d turn it down. If sacrificing the good men and women who’d signed up to fight for the Inquisition was the only way to kill Corypheus, would I do it? I didn’t think I could. But I was not a Warden, I had never stood against a Blight, I had never heard the Calling. I had not been presented with that solution and told it was my only way to prevent the Red Future. That was the situation THEY were faced with. I was the wrong person to be judging their choices. 

The Venatori, though? I could absolutely judge the Venatori. Corypheus had only had to dangle a little power in front of their faces and they had snapped it up like starving dogs. Ohhhhh yes, I could ABSOLUTELY judge the Venatori. I noticed then I was grinding my teeth.

Stroud was clearly having a hard time swallowing this one but that did not stop him from trying to help. “I may know where the Wardens are. Erimond fled that way,” he told us, pointing. “There’s an abandoned Warden fortress in that direction. Adamant.”

“Guess they didn’t want to summon a demon army out in public?” I scoffed.

“Stroud and I will scout the fortress to see if the Wardens are there,” Hawke said. “We’ll meet you back at Skyhold.”

Part of me wanted to tell them we’d go with them. I did not want to ride back to Skyhold in defeat. Of course the six of us, Bull especially, would have a hard time sneaking in and out unnoticed, and if the Wardens were not where Stroud predicted they might be, we’d be wasting time. We’d gotten what we’d come for: information. And we had to return it to the council as fast as we possibly could. So why did it feel so much like a loss?

I nearly felt like my old self again, brooding. Scowling at the sand as we trudged back the way we’d come.

We were about halfway there when Bull finally took Sera onto his back. It only made me hurt worse. I’d taken her out here, I could have found Varric, after all this was HIS contact we were working with. It was just that the news was presented to us so swiftly on our return to the keep that we had simply turned on our heels and headed back to the stables. That, however, did nothing to make me regret her condition any less.

Truth be told, we were ALL exhausted from nearly six days straight of riding, interrupted only by the worst party I’d ever attended and setting up and breaking down tents along the way. Skyhold to Halamshiral, Halamshiral to Skyhold, Skyhold to this awful, awful place. And of course, the unbearable heat in this cursed desert was of no aid. Fucking sand was relentless....

Dorian caught my elbow and I whipped my furious gaze towards him. Bull, with the weight of another person in addition to his greatsword on his back, had fallen a distance behind us.

“How is your Mark?” Dorian asked.

“It’s fine,” my voice was a moody monotone. It still burned a bit, but it was nothing I wasn’t used to by now. He didn’t appear to be fooled by my assertion.

“Amheotil, we’re going to get through this,” there was no trace of sarcasm in his tone, he was simply trying to offer me comfort. Bull was far enough behind us that he probably could not hear it.

“WE might,” I snapped back. “But Sera’s not looking so good right now, or had you noticed? And let’s not forget the piles of corpses in the tower. Piles, Dorian! They’re not going to make it through this, are they?”

I was downright ranting now, kicking the sand as my rage boiled over. “No! Of course they’re not, they already DIDN’T. And there’s a whole ARMY of them. But Ha! Why am I not surprised? Leave it to a Tevinter to not give two shits about a few SACRIFICES.”

His face fell, wounded, no witty jape to return to me. I immediately regretted my words. He’d only been trying to check up on me. He’d only been trying to help.

“I’m sorry... I’m....” my brow furrowed and I took a deep breath of hot, sandy air. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I know,” he offered softly. “Believe me, no one is more disappointed in Tevinter than I.”

I knew it to be true. If it were the Dalish aiding Corypheus I’d feel this rage AND add shame. He harped on his countrymen at least once a day.

“I know you’re nothing like them, forgive me, I’m just...”

“Under far too much pressure for any one man to handle? Concentrating on saving the entire world and shaping history?” he finished for me with a little smirk. “No, I don’t think I will forgive you.” 

I felt in that moment that I did not deserve him. Dorian faced scrutiny for being a Tevinter day in and day out, the rumors about US only worsening the suspicion of the masses that he was here to manipulate me somehow, and here he was trying to make ME feel better. Even after I’d voiced the same blatant and unfounded bias.

“I need to get out of this desert,” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“I think we all do, Boss,” Bull had caught up to us.

“Please, this place is shite,” Sera moaned over his shoulder.

We made our way back to the Inquisition camp and tied her horse to Bull’s nug, we would lead it for the time being so that I could carry her back on Elgar’nan. Sera was a terrible rider to begin with, I didn’t want her getting nauseous and falling off her mount so she rode in front of me, resting on his neck. My dearest Hart, my best friend, was my personal hero in all of this madness, behaving dutifully no matter how much I asked of him.

It took the rest of the day and part of the night to finally be clear of the desert and see plants again, a great relief for myself and the mounts alike. It took three more to finally reach our castle, Sera having recovered enough to be on her own horse by then. Harding had sent a Raven ahead to inform the council of our coming and Dennet was ready in the stables to receive us when we arrived.

We were dirty, we were sore, and we were spent.

“Next time I invite you anywhere,” I said to my companions, “You are free to turn me down.” I was dead serious, they deserved a respite.

“I WILL,” Sera returned with gusto. “I’m gonna take a bath and have a drink, yeah?”

“That was my plan,” agreed The Iron Bull. I realized I’d never seen him look tired before, but as he rubbed his face with his enormous hand I could see he was haggard now.

“Sounds lovely, would you mind if I joined you?” Dorian added.

“And get to see your pretty self in the bath?” Bull chuckled. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

“Well neither of you better look at me,” Sera spat at the two of them and then looked over to me, “You coming?”

I shook my head. As much as it was all I wanted to do, I had to be the Inquisitor. A sweaty, foul odored Inquisitor, but a responsible one. Perhaps I’d change my clothes first.

Sera shrugged and joined Bull, who was already walking towards the door that would take him to the bathhouse. Dorian fretted for a moment.

“Surely the council can wait,” he wore a face that was equal parts disbelief and concern. “It’s been more than a week since we departed for Halamshiral.”

I gave him a weak smile. “Unfortunately, they can’t. I will relax AFTER I speak to them.”

“The Herald’s Rest later, then?”

“Perhaps,” it was the best I could do. “If the Herald himself is not too busy resting.”

He smiled at that, nodded, and walked off in the same direction as the others.

I climbed the steps towards the castle, my feet feeling like boulders to be lifted with each step. I first stopped to speak with Varric and inform him of Hawke’s movements which he greatly appreciated, then made my way to my quarters. With our arrival today having been expected a basin of warm water was waiting for me, and I’d never thought I’d be so grateful to have servants. It was scented lightly with lavender and there were petals floating on the top. A woven basket full of fresh fruit and little baked cakes sat on my desk. 

There was a note sticking out underneath it:  
We did what we could with what we had. Hope this is all to your liking, Inquisitor, welcome home.  
\- the little people

And it appeared my servants were grateful for me as well. I held the note to my chest and smiled, Home. It felt nice to be home. I vowed to myself to share the treats with Sera and give her a title. Official Liaison of the Little People. Or something. 

I stripped myself of my armor and scrubbed my face, neck, arms and chest in the basin until I felt presentable enough to go to the war table. I took a little cake and allowed myself to collapse on my bed, wearing only my breeches, to eat it. I chewed with my eyes closed, thinking only of how badly I wanted to stay here. Fen’Harel take the war council, I was going to sleep. If only.

Finished with my snack I dragged myself back to standing, donned a tunic, and made my way down the stairs. Word of my presence in the hall spread quickly and Leliana and Cullen had already made their way to Josephine’s office. I begged them to let us just sit around the fireplace, as it was bound to be a lengthy discussion. They were very understanding and the next few hours we spent revisiting the events at Halamshiral and reviewing the events in the Western Approach were not so very awful.

We expected to hear from Hawke and Stroud soon, until then we were caught up. Josephine and Cullen retired for supper but Leliana asked me to stay behind for just a moment.

“Last week, shortly before we left for Halamshiral,” she started when we were alone, “Dorian was seen arguing with a merchant in the courtyard, something about an amulet?”

I frowned. “He hasn’t mentioned anything to me.”

“Just thought you ought to know. I was told he seemed fairly upset.”

“Thank you, Leliana. I will ask him about it, though it’s possible it’s nothing, that man just loves to argue.”

She giggled at that.

“The rumors?” I asked. I guessed I should be keeping up with that and Leliana had literally been there for our first dalliance in the tower, as it could not get any more awkward than that I felt comfortable asking.

“We’re keeping them a bay, Inquisitor,” she responded.

“Keep me informed,” I said, adding playfully, “I do love to hear about my sordid affairs.”

She smiled and bowed her head. I left the office, retrieved my disgusting clothing and a bar of soap from my chambers, and headed down to the bathhouse. As I approached the laundry chamber I spotted her hair first, in two braids today.

“Aneth ara, Lethallan,” I said, “Do you ever take a day off?”

Felicity smiled when she saw me but shook her head. “You know I don’t speak Elvhen and if you never get a day off, why should I?”

I grinned as she took my filthy clothes from me.

“Your face looks better than when I saw you last. Heard you saved the Empress as well.... oh, and that you’re quite a fine dancer.”

“Heh,” I chuckled. “My face is in no small part due to you. Come to think of it, the Infirmary might have use for you, should you tire of your place here.”

“Truly?” she asked.

“If you want. The physician admired your handiwork, I gave you credit for it. Go see him anytime, tell him I sent you.”

“Maybe I’ll do that,” she said. “If I could help people, I should, right?”

I pursed my lips and nodded agreement.

“Thank you, Inquisitor. Now! Your clothes smell disgusting so I’m going to wash them, if you’ll excuse me.”

I scrunched my face up and said “Sorry” before I turned towards the baths and left her to her work. The hot water was so soothing I thought I might fall asleep in it, I stayed until my hands and feet were all wrinkled and my trail weary muscles were no longer so stiff.

When I emerged from the chamber the sky was dark. Dorian’s invitation to the Herald’s Rest echoed in my mind and having felt slightly rejuvenated by the spring I decided to at least check in and see how they were doing. I fetched the basket of treats I’d promised myself I would share first, then headed to the tavern.

When I opened the door Krem and Sera were having an arm wrestling contest. Dorian and Bull appeared to be betting on it. It surprised me how well Sera held her own against Krem.

“You’ve got this,” Bull was shouting at him but Dorian was cheering for Sera.

“Sera, did you know that each time you draw your bow it’s equivalent to lifting 60 pounds with one arm? Much heavier than a sword if you ask me,” he was saying while he leaned over her both both hands on the back of her chair.

I couldn’t say what it was but he looked positively delicious at that moment. Smiling, intent, muscled arm bearing his weight, flexing.

Krem won, but Sera had no hard feelings, she was snickering from the fun of it. I walked over and set the basket on the table, handing her the little note. She read it and beamed at me.

“Brilliant, innit?” she said. “I told you, having friends is better than having Nobles any day.”

“I never doubted you,” I said.

“Have a drink!” she shouted getting up from her chair, and then shook the note at me. “I’m keeping this, yeah?”

I smiled and nodded and she bolted upstairs, no doubt to file it away somewhere in her cabinet.

Bull and Krem were chewing on some cakes, using hand gestures to indicate to me that they were delicious. Dorian poured me a glass of MacKay’s Single Malt.

“Cabot cracked it open to toast our saving the Empress,” he grinned at me. “I’d reckon it’s older than the Maker, for once we’re not being forced to drink swill.”

He was right, it was smoother than elven baby-butt. It was warm in my throat but it never burned.

“Of course, I’m already three glasses deep,” he admitted to me.

“We debated whether or not to start without you,” Bull chimed in.

“Shortest debate I ever heard,” Krem teased him.

“I’ll probably only have the one anyway,” I smiled, taking Sera’s chair. “I’m exhausted.”

“Me too, but after that shit?” he shuddered, “I’m gonna fuck something.”

“Wish I could say the same, Bull,” I lamented jokingly.

“But I thought I heard you two....” said Krem, gesturing to me and Dorian.

We traded sheepish smiles and both kind of shook our heads.

“Oh,” said Krem. “Then I heard wrong. Wouldn’t judge you if you were.”

“Wait,” said Bull. “Does that mean you’re still on the table, Dorian?”

“Bull I believe your offer is too much for me, if you catch my meaning,” Dorian quipped.

He cackled. “It’s true, not everyone can handle a ride on The Bull.”

“Gross,” came Sera as she returned. “Men are disgusting... not you Krem.”

“Thanks,” said Krem. I thought the two of them would make a rather fetching pair actually.

I stayed long enough to finish my glass and then excused myself from the table, citing how tired I truly was. Dorian asserted that he shared that sentiment, to the delight of the others.

“You’re having it off with him aren’t you?” Sera laughed. “You don’t need me talking but I’m going to.”

I shook my head, grinning. These were my friends and I didn’t care if they knew, but I had told them the truth, we weren’t having sex. Oh well. I just walked out of the tavern laughing, Dorian following behind me in much the same spirit.

It was late and anyone who was still awake was either in the tavern we’d just left or tucked away in their quarters somewhere. As we walked Dorian reached over and laced his fingers with mine.

“I’m quite drunk,” he snickered.

I chuckled as well and squeezed his hand. I wouldn’t ask about the amulet Leliana had mentioned now. I’d wait until he had at least a little less alcohol in his blood. I also did not wish to upset him, which I thought it might. Instead I just enjoyed the present, the cool night air, his arm swinging in tandem with my own. It felt silly and childish but that’s what made it fun.

What we’d witnessed in the Warden fortress, what we would likely witness in the coming weeks, it was horror. It could disturb even the strongest of minds.

We deserved a little fun.


	19. The Magister’s Birthright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I like filling in the fast travel.

The morning saw a new development in the form of a raven with word that Stroud had indeed been correct about the occupants of the Adamant fortress. He and Hawke were making their return journey as we read the words. Cullen needed to start preparing the forces and it would take some time before we were ready to mount our attack, but we knew where to strike at Corypheus next. It gave me little peace of mind, but it was something.

With that matter settled for the time being I needed something to distract myself. Otherwise I’d have gone mad overthinking the battle looming over our heads, dwelling on all the things happening in Adamant Fortress while we had no choice but to sit and wait. The image of corpses in Warden armor came unbidden to my mind, how many were being slaughtered right this very moment?

There was only one person who could consume my thoughts enough to drive it all out, and he was reading in a chair by a window if I had to wager. I still had to follow up on Leliana’s information, after all. If the question upset him, well, even an argument was preferable to losing my sanity.

“Always a sight for sore eyes,” he said as I leaned on the sill beside him.

“If your eyes are sore, perhaps you should put the book down,” I suggested.

“And what would I do after I put it down, praytell?” he said flirtatiously.

I swallowed, here went nothing. “I... heard something about an amulet.”

“Where did you hear that?” he didn’t sound pleased, but he didn’t sound angry either. Then, because he was an intelligent man, it dawned on him, “Ohhh.... Leliana.... of course SHE would find out.”

I smiled at him to indicate he was correct and I raised my eyebrows to indicate he should tell me what all this what about.

“Don’t make an issue of it. I don’t want someone solving my personal problems for me. I’ll get the amulet back somehow,” he added with narrowed eyes, “On my own.”

All right, maybe it WAS a bit of a touchy subject, but I was not above prying at the moment. “I’m not entirely certain what it is,” I said.

He looked as though he would rather not discuss it further but he relented, “The Pavus Birthright, the flashy thing you show peons to make them tremble at your impressive lineage,” he explained, his tone mocking the whole of it. 

“I didn’t leave Tevinter with much in the way of coin so I... sold it. Entirely forbidden, of course, and foolish but I was desperate,” he shrugged. “I’ll figure something out.”

A family heirloom? That was only for clout in the Imperium? I supposed I could understand the sentimentality of wanting such a trinket but after how our conversation with his father in Redcliffe had gone I had to ask, “You don’t even like your family, why would you want it back?”

“Because it’s mine,” he said definitively, “and it shouldn’t be... passed around like candy.”

“That’s the only reason?” it felt like there was more he wasn’t saying, and I could tell I was right when he got snappy.

“That’s reason enough, leave it be!”

I pursed my lips, no, I didn’t think I would leave it be at all, I had needed a distraction and this was it. “There are plenty of ways to skin a Nug, Dorian, we’ll think of something.”

He huffed. “And I will, I’LL get it back. I lost the amulet,” he insisted, “And I may not have your resources but I can’t ask you to.... ugh.... you have too many people asking you for everything under the sun. I won’t be one of them.”

As Leliana had already discovered the man in possession of Dorian’s amulet, and his offer of a meeting in Val Royeaux, I didn’t have to think very hard on what the next step was. Dorian said he would think of something, but I already HAD thought of something. It was a two day ride to the city. And including two days’ ride back, that was four entire days of concentrating on something other than our impending siege. It would take four whole days just to get our troops STARTED on coordinating an attack on Adamant. Dorian clearly wanted the thing back, I could think of no better use for my time.

“Fine,” I said. I loathed lying, but I knew if I told him the truth he was going to try to stop me and now I was determined to help. What good was my title if I couldn’t use it to help my friends? Especially my best friend and tentative lover.

“Well, I must ready myself, I’m setting out for Val Royeaux today,” I dropped on him, rising from my chair.

“You can’t be serious,” he whipped his eyes toward me. “We just returned YESTERDAY. And I might add that we didn’t return from a day long journey from the Hinterlands, we spent more than a week out of Skyhold. Surely whatever business you have could be pushed back by a day, at least.”

“Unfortunately, it can’t. The council received word this morning that Adamant is full of Wardens and demons and we’re assembling our troops. If I set out now I can be back in plenty of time to continue our planning with Cullen,” that was all true. “You need not join me, Dorian. As I said last night, you deserve a respite.”

“Yes, I do,” he affirmed. “As do you.”

“I don’t disagree, but I’m still going. All I wanted was to ask about what Leliana had told me and say farewell to you.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are not saying farewell,” he put his book down, “because I am, of course, coming with you.”

“I’m not asking you to,” I argued.

“Yet I am doing it anyway,” he did not realize that in just that sentence he was doing to me exactly the same thing that I was doing to him. That realization made me snicker.

“If you insist,” was all I said.

I also collected Vivienne and Cassandra, both of whom I thought could have had their own business to attend in the city. I had promised to give Bull and Sera time to rest and I would not ask this of them.

I felt much the same way towards Elgar’nan though he did not seem to understand why he was being left in the stables. I said my goodbyes to him and had Dennet saddle four horses instead.

We set out in the early afternoon to ride down the Northern mountain ridge towards the coast. It was slower going down the slopes on.... animals that were not Harts, but by twilight we’d reached the coast and by nightfall the mountains were looming a fair distance away.

We set up camp and I volunteered to take the first watch. These parts were dangerous, unsettled lands. Too far inland to be the Storm Coast, too far North to be the Exalted Plains, and filled with wild animals, demons, and bandits alike. The ocean was beautiful though.

I hadn’t spent much time with the ocean in my life, but I did love it. The moon glittered off the gentle waves, a land barrier prevented this portion of the sea from being so turbulent as it was further East, but the water was black as tar under the night sky. I found a boulder flat enough to make a good seat and tall enough to make a good vantage point and sat atop it, staring out over the vast expanse. I felt immeasurably small in comparison. It was soothing, really. If we lost, if we could not prevent the Red Future, if every single person on the Earth died a horrible death and demons ranged from Par Vollen to Fereldan... this sea would still be here, unchanged. 

I didn’t know how long I’d been lost in thought on that boulder before I heard footsteps approaching on the gravel shore. I turned, Evanura in my hand, expecting raiders.

“Tea?” came Dorian’s voice from below me. He was holding two steaming tin cups with little handles, and there was a blanket draped over his shoulder. I had not realized how cold I was until I saw him.

“I thought you’d gone to sleep hours ago,” I said.

“I had,” he chirped, “You do realize that ‘first watch’ does not mean ‘all night long’ don’t you?”

“Heh,” I leaned over the side of the boulder and took the mugs from him, placing them on the flat stone. Then I reached an arm down and we locked wrists so I could help to pull him up. “Force of habit from my days with the Lavellan, I suppose.”

He draped the blanket over my shoulders. “Your hands are freezing, drink your tea,” he said as he sat himself beside me. “What are you doing out here, anyway?”

I sipped my tea, it was sweet, white tea leaves I thought, maybe citrus peel? I was catching on that Dorian had an affinity for sweet things. His wine, his tea. Perhaps his men.

“Looking,” I answered honestly.

“At what? There’s nothing here.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him, frankly dumbfounded. Nothing here? Did he not see the ocean? Did he not see the moon? Did he not see the thousands of stars or the silhouette of black mountains against a dark violet sky?

“Well, of course there’s something here,” he revised himself, catching my expression. “But it’s just water.”

“JUST water?” I criticized. “I’d like you to march out there and tell that to it’s face, see how long you’d last before you froze to death or the current pulled you under.”

“Is that an order, Inquisitor?”

I smiled. “It might just be one.”

“You Dalish elves and your reverence for Nature,” he mocked. “If you asked me I’d say it’s far too cold here and the air tastes of salt.”

“Of course you would, you don’t take the time to appreciate it before you start complaining,” I countered.

“And what, I beg of you, is there to appreciate? You’ve just admitted it would freeze you or drown you,” he added with pizzazz, “Perhaps both!” 

He sipped his own tea and I saw that his hands were shivering, just a little. I shook my head and draped the blanket he’d brought me over his shoulders too, scooting in a little closer to him. 

“It would,” I agreed with him, turning my eyes back towards the open water. “But that’s what’s admirable about it. We all spend our lives killing each other for the shapes of our ears or the Gods we declare, to steal lands and titles from one another or to get revenge for some perceived slight. The ocean does not discriminate. It does not care that you are a high born noble nor that I lead a vast army. It simply.... exists. There’s more power in that than you or I will ever hold. It was here long before our lives began and it will remain here long after we have crossed the Veil. A man may conquer an entire country but if he is foolish enough to think he can conquer the sea he is drowned.”

Dorian was fixated on me.

“What?” I asked him after a long silence.

“That was... uncharacteristically wise and... very eloquently put,” he said, still staring. “And they tell me Varric is the writer.”

I supposed he was right, I’d never really spoken my thoughts on these kinds of things aloud to the others, not even to Solas who might have appreciated the sentiment. I took a swig of tea.

“Perhaps there is something more to the ‘savage’ Dalish after all,” he teased. “Though I do feel I’m being lectured.”

I smiled and inclined my head. “Sometimes I feel you could use a few more lectures.”

“What?” he feigned shock. “How could you say such a thing? I know that I am not always right, but I am certainly never wrong.”

I scowled. “I’m going to push you off this rock.”

“There’s the warrior I’m so familiar with,” he shot back like an arrow.

I playfully put a hand on his shoulder and pushed, maybe a pinch too hard as he actually began to tip over.

“And after I brought you a hot beverage and a blanket!” he was trying to sound outraged as he righted himself but he was laughing.

I was grinning, myself. We sat in silence drinking our tea and watching the waves.

“You know,” I said, “if someone had told me months ago that my best friend would be a Tevinter, I’d have probably killed them.”

“Is that what I am to you?”

“That’s the shortest description I can manage,” I offered.

“And the longest?”

I smirked at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Ugh,” he scoffed. “Well who’s going to get pushed off the rock now?”

“Dorian I do not imagine you’d enjoy the longest description I could put together, anyway.”

He seemed to think that one over for a second. “A fair point. You’re probably right.”

I chortled as he continued, “I do not think I’d know how to even begin to describe YOU.”

“Worst slave ever,” I started for him, jesting.

“Oh you TRULY would be,” he agreed. “Although I relish the idea of being able to order you around. I could think of a few practical uses for that.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “And what would those be?”

“Kiss me,” he commanded.

I made a show of bobbing my head side to side like I was mulling it over before I leaned in and did just that. Warm lips that tasted of tea. I gave him just the one and pulled back.

“See how long it took you to obey?” he acted appalled. “The elves in Tevinter would never.”

I knew we were kidding and I knew I was the one who’d brought it up in the first place, but I felt that one somewhere deep inside myself. It hurt, because I imagined it was probably very true.

“Am I your first?” I asked. It was a question I’d been holding onto a long time.

“Hardly,” he snorted.

I rolled my eyes. “ELF, I mean.” I didn’t know which answer I would prefer, the one that would suggest he was racist or the one that would suggest he was a rapist.

“Oh,” he said a little sheepishly. “Yes, you are.”

I realized after he said it that it was the answer I’d wanted. I knew it did not truly equate to him discriminating against elves and I was wholly thankful he’d never made advances on a slave who would’ve been unable to refuse. I didn’t know if I’d be able to forgive that.

“Am I yours?” he asked curiously.

“Human? Not on your life,” I snorted.

“Mage then?”

Hmmmm. I had not considered that. I’d been with another elf once who could do SOME magic but I’d have hardly called him a mage. He possessed nothing like the power Dorian wielded.

“Does that make a difference?” I asked.

He gave me a mischievous smile and raised an eyebrow as though he knew something I did not. “I’ll take that as yes.”

Fuck. Well now I had something entirely new to fantasize about.

“Is your tea done?” he asked.

I looked into the cup, swirled it around, and shot back what was left with an “Is now”.

“Good, now you can get some sleep,” he suggested.

I frowned at him.

“What? You don’t think I’m capable of standing watch?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Excellent. Then off to bed with you, first watch suggests there is a second,” he sounded rather motherly. “Honestly, Amheotil, we just talked about this or don’t you remember? Are you perhaps still suffering from your concussion?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” I asked suspiciously.

“As a matter of fact I am!” he answered. “Mostly due to the fact that I want the blanket to myself. My legs are cold.”

I snorted. And then I stood and folded my half of the blanket over his legs.

“Better?” I said.

“Much.”

“Thank you for the tea.”

“Good night,” he said it like I should leave so I leapt off the boulder, landing nimbly on my feet.

“Show off,” I heard him mutter.

But I did not look back to retort, had I done that I might have been tempted to stay and he was right, I should get some sleep. I walked the short distance back to camp and headed towards my tent.

“You’re very cute together, darling.”

“Ahh!” I reacted, entirely caught off guard, though my hand was on Evanura before I realized it was Vivienne.

Anyone else might have laughed at my shock, but I could see in the light of our magical fire that she only wore the faintest hint of a smile. If it were Sera I would have told her she scared the shite out of me, but I knew Vivienne expected a more stately Inquisitor than that.

“Is EVERYONE awake?” I asked.

“No, Inquisitor, Cassandra is asleep, but I heard Dorian making tea,” she lifted her steaming cup to indicate her meaning.

“Oh,” I said. “Yeah, he’s...”

“Oh I’m well aware of where he is, my dear. As I said, the two of you are simply adorable.” With Vivienne I could never tell jest from genuine. I wondered how much she had seen.

“Thank you.... I think.”

She just inclined her head and said “Good night, Inquisitor. Sleep well.”

I nodded and headed into my tent. I laid Evanura and my shield by my bedroll, took off my Battle Coat and boots, and slid into the thick woolen fabric. Dorian was right, I supposed, it was awfully cold here. My last thought as I drifted off to sleep was that sharing a blanket had been much more comfortable.

————————————-

When I awoke the sun was rising and Cassandra was on watch, though she did so from a large piece of driftwood near the fire. Being so practical she probably did not think it wise to wander far.

“Morning Cass,” I said when I emerged from my tent and saw her there.

“Good morning, Inquisitor,” she said with a smile. “Breakfast?” She held out a cast iron pan with two still warm sausages in it.

“Thank you,” I said taking one and horking it down.

“Did you sleep all right?”

“Fine,” I answered her. “You?”

“I think I set my tent on a rock,” she replied.

“Oof, been there,” I said.

We both chuckled, warriors laughing at our shared miseries. Dorian and Vivienne both emerged a short while later. We packed up, killed the fire, and mounted our horses.

The ride along the coast was pleasant by my account. When the sun was risen it was much warmer and the sea twinkled with the brightness of it. I even caught Dorian enjoying the view, perhaps reflecting on our conversation from the night before. We hardly encountered a soul. A single Fade Rift we made short work of sealing, but nothing else of note.

We had just finished crossing the land bridge when the sun began to set and we reached the city shortly after nightfall. We booked two rooms at an inn which, like all things in Val Royeaux, was unnecessarily luxurious. We could board our horses in their stables and Vivienne and Cassandra would share one room, Dorian and I in another. Those arrangements made the most sense, but the girls seemed to find it scandalous, both all raised eyebrows and titters.

I understood why once we were standing in a room with only one bed. A large bed, to be sure, but still only the one. I pinched the bridge of my nose looking at it. Fen’Harel take me.

“Something wrong?” Dorian said, amusement playing on his face.

I shot him a sideways look. “Nothing at all,” I said. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Nonsense.”

“Dorian, I can’t...”

“Sure you can,” he interrupted me, grinning. He was giving me permission to share his bed, but nothing more than that.

I pursed my lips and shook my head. I was sure I couldn’t. I remembered our night in the Hinterlands with one tent set up. I could not have handled it then, and as our flirtations had only grown more involved since that night, I was certain I could not handle it now. I would have to lay Evanura between us in the bed so that any attempt to reach him would cut my arm off. I had a great deal of self control but I knew my limits.

“There’s a chair in the corner, I’ll just... sleep in that.”

“Would it really be so bad?” he asked.

“Do you intend to let me fuck you?” the question was out before I could stop myself.

“I suppose at some point I might consider it....” his face was unreadable.

“But not tonight? Right. I’ll sleep in the chair.”

“If you insist,” he relented. I was unconvinced that he meant it, though, especially when he began to remove his armor. He was trying to tempt me, knowing full well this was neither the place nor the time. I set my jaw and stared at the floor. Was it within my rights as Inquisitor to order him to sleep with his clothes on?

He laid on the bed, bare of everything but his breeches, and laced his fingers behind his head. He looked divine. I knew I was welcome to kiss him. I knew I was welcome to walk over and run my hands over his beautifully brown skin. I wanted to, but I did not want to start something that would likely end in misery for me.

“Mmmm,” he smiled, “The beds here are wonderfully comfortable.”

“Don’t you start!” I snapped, pointing a finger at him. But I smiled against my will. Stupid, sexy, smug arsehole.

I removed my Battle Coat and boots once more, but nothing else. Dorian pouted a bit at that, but I just rolled my eyes. He knew he could take me if he wanted me but he wasn’t doing that, so I assumed he just wasn’t ready yet. Or wasn’t done toying with me yet. Or both.

I blew out the candles in the room and settled into my chair. It was, at least, a very nice chair. I still didn’t get much sleep, being as focused as I was on not fantasizing about the man laying half naked six feet away. When I did doze off for any length of time I would dream of crawling into that bed and ravaging him until all of Val Royeaux knew my name. Then I would awake, painfully hard, and have to focus on the battle strategies Cullen and I had discussed about the Adamant Fortress to make it go away. So much for a distraction.

—————————————

“Amheotil,” I heard a soft voice. “Wake up.”

Dorian was dressed, but very, very close to my face as I opened my eyes. As soon as I did he was kissing me. I was not certain whether or not this was another dream. It tasted too real though, sweet, the way his mouth always tasted. I let myself be swept into it and reached for his face. Having been sexually frustrated for the entirety of the night, it did not take long for the kiss to resonate somewhere other than my lips.

Thankfully, he pulled back. I stood and stretched, I think I’d have been in better shape if I’d just slept on the floor.

“How did you sleep?” he asked me, a bit of a smirk dancing across his face.

“Don’t rub it in,” I pleaded.

I was slipping back into my armor already. He sat on the edge of the bed while I buckled my boots.

“Are you going to tell me why we’re in Val Royeaux?” he asked.

Oh. Right. Well... being lied to served him right for the number of times I felt my erection had been lied to in his presence. 

“Meeting some noble person, probably wearing a mask,” technically it was true.

“As always, Inquisitor, you are a talented diplomat.”

Vivienne and Cassandra had had no business to attend in the city after all, but I’d still felt comfortable with their assistance in this particular meeting. They met us in the courtyard of the inn so that we could all head to the Plaza together.

“How was your night, my dear?” Vivienne asked with a wry smile playing at her lips.

“My back hurts,” I said.

Cassandra choked back a laugh at that and I realized what they were insinuating.

“I mean that I slept in a chair,” I said, exasperated.

The Plaza was sunny and warm. The Ponchard De Lieux was standing against a wall by one of the shops.

“Inquisitor,” he said as I approached. “Good, good, this is exactly what I was hoping for.”

“What?” Dorian glared at me, catching on quickly. He seemed to know who had his amulet as well. “Is THAT why we’re here? I said I wanted to do this myself. I don’t want to be indebted to anyone, least of all YOU.”

We could talk about it later. I did not understand his fixation on accomplishing this alone.

“I apologize but that won’t be possible,” said the Ponchard, mask glinting in the sunlight. “Do forgive me, Inquisitor, but when I heard of your... association... with Monsieur Pavus, I could not resist. It’s not coin I seek for the amulet but influence. Influence YOU possess, but which the young man does not. Provided, of course, you desire the amulet for your friend.”

“Aren’t you a merchant?” I asked. “Why not just sell it back?”

“I am not a Fence, Monsieur,” he explained. “I only bought your friend’s amulet because of what it is. I do business in the Imperium, having a Birthright, even one not your own, is useful in... select situations.”

“Huh,” Dorian looked unamused. “He’s got the right of it there.”

Ugh. Nobles.

“That’s why I gave the young man so much. If he relinquished it, how is that my doing?”

“You want something from me,” I scowled. “What would you like?”

“The League de Celestine is an organization of wealthy noblemen in Orlais. I would like to join but I lack the lineage. If someone like you applied pressure, they would admit me. THAT would be worth the return of the amulet.”

Trite political bullshit. What else did I expect to find in Val Royeaux.

“Leave the man be,” said Dorian. “I got myself into this and I should get myself out of it.”

“Perhaps you should accept your friend’s help Monsieur,” the Ponchard addressed him.

“Kaffas!” Dorian swore at the merchant. “I know what you think. And he’s not my friend he’s...”

I turned toward him, quizzical expression on my face. He stopped himself muttering, “Nevermind what he is.”

Well... we could talk about that later as well. I remembered his question last night; ‘Is that what I am to you?’. Suddenly I was wondering what I was to him, what WOULD his description of me be?

“As you desire,” deigned the Ponchard. “Even so, that is my price, I shall accept no other.”

I despised the Game. I could kill this man where he stood if I wished it. Josephine would clean up the political mess.

“You do realize I could just TAKE it from you?” I threatened, thumbing the hilt of Evanura at my waist.

The man chuckled a bit. “I do, though that would not get you what you seek. I do not have the amulet with me, you see.”

I frowned. Of course. “Very well,” I sighed. “I’ll do as you ask.”

“What?” Dorian was clearly not a fan of the idea. He gestured toward the Orlesian, “You’re going to give in to this cretin?”

“Do you want your amulet back?” I asked him. If this was what it took it was what we were going to do.

“I... yes I do but I simply...” he seemed to be looking for a way around the solution we had, frustrated.

“Much obliged,” the masked man was saying. “The moment I receive invitation from the League, I will have the amulet delivered. It’s been an honor doing business with you.” He offered me a courtly bow.

Dorian was turning away already muttering, “Influence mongering.”

I followed after him.

“I don’t want to be in your debt,” he was griping. “I don’t want to be in anyone’s debt.”

“You don’t think...” I tried to say but he interrupted me.

“I don’t want to discuss it,” and with a shake of his head he walked back in the direction of the inn.

I let him go.

“THAT’S what this is about then, my dear?” Vivienne asked. Cassandra was still eyeing the Ponchard, jaw set in a hard line.

“Leliana told me about it,” I told her. “Dorian doesn’t want my help.”

“Clearly not,” said Cassandra.

“One cannot have too much pride when playing the Game,” Vivienne advised. “Don’t think too hard on it, when he receives the outcome he desires he will be grateful for your aid.”

“Thanks Viv,” I said.

“Never call me that, darling,” she said.

I smiled. This was why The Iron Bull always called her “Ma’am”.

Dorian did not speak to me for the next four days. He sulked the entire ride home, chewing on the inside of his cheek and retiring into his tent the moment it was set up, and was no friendlier once inside the walls of Skyhold.

I took Vivienne’s advice and paid no mind to his foul attitude. I could understand wanting to accomplish it himself. He was, after all, a very proud man. We were alike in that respect. I knew when to ask for aid, though. A warrior had to be confident but know that calling for help when needed could be the difference between life and death, and there was no shame in it, but rather a sense of camaraderie. Of course, this was not life or death, but the sentiment was the same. He WAS my best friend or, you know, something.... according to his words in the Plaza.

But Dorian was not a warrior. He was a nobleman. And I was not a politician, so I asked Josephine to help with the League de Celestine as soon as I arrived back at the keep. She was happy to oblige me, of course, and it was two days later that I held Dorian’s Birthright in my hand. That woman was a host unto herself and I positively adored her for it.

I climbed the steps to the tower where Dorian was staring out the window. I paused a moment to just look at him, all sleek lines and tanned skin bathed in sunlight. Pretty as a painting. I got closer and he turned at the sound of my footsteps on the stone floor.

I held out the amulet. “Here it is,” I smiled sheepishly.

He took it, turning it over in his hands, frowning. “Now I am indebted to you, I never wanted this, I told you.”

“I didn’t do this so you would be indebted to me, Dorian. I did it for you.”

“Ah... that’s the problem,” he shook his head.

“Why is that a problem?” As he’d said to me himself, no one accused me of being politically astute.

He was pacing. I hadn’t imagined it was tearing him up THIS badly. I had thought giving him some space and a little time to process would have cooled him off.

“Someone intelligent would cozy up to the Inquisitor if they could, it’d be foolish not to. He can open doors, get you whatever you want, shower you with gifts and power,” his expression was pained. “That’s what they’ll say... I’m the Magister who’s using you.”

Rumors? He was worried about rumors? I’d thought we established that that didn’t matter. There was already talk about him manipulating me, Sera had told me one about ‘sex magic’ he was supposedly performing to cloud my mind. She had cackled the entire time she recounted it to me. It was the Tevinter in his head that told him he had to care about such nonsense.

“Is that all? Go ahead and use me, Dorian,” I meant it, in every way possible. I shot a smirk at him, “Or are you all talk?”

He chortled and made a sweeping gesture to all of me, “Oh, you are glorious.”

“I was an ass in Val Royeaux, it’s my specialty” he said, taking a step closer to me. With a small bow he added, “I apologize. And thank you.”

I closed the distance between us and raised an eyebrow. He was an ass. But he was also endearing, a good man, and my closest companion. I didn’t care about rumors and I would prove it right now in a tower full of people. They all worked for me, I could do anything I wanted to.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to his, resting my hands on his shoulders. He melted into it, opening his mouth to let me slide my tongue in and wrapping his arms around me. He wasn’t always an infuriating nightmare, and times like these made me feel that maybe he was worth the times that he was. 

He gently pushed himself away from the kiss, “I’m going to stop before I say something syrupy, but I won’t forget this, and I WILL repay you. Count on it.”

One side of my mouth curved upwards and I shook my head. He didn’t owe me a damned thing, but if that made this more tolerable for him I wouldn’t argue. Between his using my attraction as entertainment and volatile reactions to any assistance I gave him, I believed his ego would be the death of me.

And if anyone had told me before all this that one day I’d stand here and think a Tevinter was worth dying for, I’d have probably killed them.


	20. Sexy Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: This chapter contains explicit depictions of sexual relations between two men. If you’re not down for that, just skip this. It’s really only an extended version of the cutscene.
> 
> P.S. I hate the word MEMBER to describe a penis. Can’t stand it, can’t make me say it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know how much time I spent researching historical lubricants? I chose carrageenan because it was made from boiling seaweed and I figured maybe they were using Spindleweed or something. I DONT KNOW OKAY? I just didn’t really see them breaking out the KY.

I spent the next two nights in his little nook with him, drinking and talking each evening. Battle preparations consumed my every waking moment. We had two days before we set out ourselves. I was struggling. I wanted Corypheus to stop being a coward and hiding behind others. Many and more of our people would die at Adamant, that was the only certainty we had about it. If he would simply come out of whatever hole he’d crawled into and fight me like a warrior we could put an end to it there.

Dorian was more than happy to occupy some of my time, though he could tell my mind was elsewhere. After long hours at the war table he would simply pour a glass of wine for me and let me decompress. We even managed not to get into any arguments.

Today as I walked up the steps to find him in the tower he was leaning on the railing, looking down into Solas’ study at the frescos on the wall. I leaned on it next to him, not saying a word but rather joining him in admiring the other elf’s artistic endeavors.

“Have you been to your quarters lately?” he asked.

I’d been running around all day, to the armory to check our weapons supply, to the stables to check with Dennet about how many horses we had left to carry the rest of our men to the Western Approach, to Cullen’s office to check on how the transportation of our trebuchets was moving along, to the tavern to ask Bull if he felt comfortable sending the Chargers into Adamant. 

The last bit had been the most important to me. I had a deep respect for The Iron Bull, under all those rippling pectorals was an intelligent and capable man who valued every fighter under his command. I would not risk them if he did not consent to it. He’d insisted they would be downright offended if they weren’t expected to be there with the rest of our forces. And he’d insisted that Krem could lead them in battle because, of course, he’d be by MY side. I could have hugged him.

“Not recently,” I said. “Not since I woke up.”

“Do,” he suggested, adding, “when you have the chance. There’s something there that might... interest you.”

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. It was something in the way he said it, or perhaps the way he was looking at me. It made my stomach feel like leaves fluttering to the ground in autumn.

“All right,” I affirmed. “I’ll do that.”

I hesitated for a brief moment, consumed by wondering. He said nothing more, though, so I tapped the railing, nodded, and turned to walk away. I meandered down the stairs, through the door, and across the hall to the stairway that lead to my chambers.

Upon entering the room I noticed... nothing. I looked over my desk, the little table by the couch, out on the balconies, even in the closet where only a few old wooden crates sat empty. What was Dorian on about?

I leaned on the baseboard of my bed, I couldn’t be positive what he was up to but I had a sneaking feeling...

“So,” came his voice from behind me. “It’s all very nice, this flirting business, but I am, however, not a nice man.”

I stared at him as he talked. Always talking. I tried to choke down a smile as I felt I already knew what he was here for, but I let him make his little speech for posterity’s sake. 

“So here is my proposal,” he was saying. “We dispense with the chit chat and move onto something more... primal.”

And now I KNEW what he was here for. My heart started pounding. I was already watching him as a predator watches prey. ‘Primal’ he’d said. He did not know he was tempting fate using a word like that around me. I’d displayed more self control with him than I’d ever imagined I could, he had no inkling of just how primal I could be.

“It will set tongues to wagging of course, not that they aren’t already,” he moved in closer with every step, his eyes scouring every inch of me. He’d already seen my body naked, I imagined he was just thinking about where to start. He passed behind me and whispered into my ear, “I suppose it just depends, how bad does the Inquisitor want to be?”

I turned my head and smirked at him, “I thought you’d never ask.” Did he expect anything different?

“I like playing hard to get,” he smiled.

“And now?”

“I’ve gotten,” he purred.

All this time toying with me and I had never given him up. He knew that in THIS respect, I belonged to him.

Stupid. Smug. Sexy. Arsehole.

I could banter with him no longer than that, I turned around and pressed myself into him. His hands found my back as I found his mouth with my own, my fingers already working on the belts at his shoulder.

“So eager,” he whispered breathlessly in my ear.

“You said you wanted primal,” I growled as I ripped at the buckles, that word still echoing in my ears. I was more than ready for this. He’d made me wait for so long. “You’ve never had primal like a Dalish.”

His scent to my nose was like blood to a wolf’s. I wanted to tear him apart. It was immensely liberating to know that this was not a ruse, he was no longer trying to frustrate me, he was actually ready to do this. He studied me somewhat quizzically, but he released his grip on me so that I could slide the battle robes off of his shoulders. When I had last seen him like this, I had not allowed myself to touch. If I had I wouldn’t have been able to stop, and I had resigned myself to letting him control the pace long ago. This time I was free from restraint. Just the sensation of my fingers gliding over his flawless skin sent a shiver down my spine.

“I have never seen you like this.”

“You made it known you were just teasing before,” I said taking a step back to frantically work at the fastenings of my own tunic while I enjoyed the view of his bare torso. “I too have superlative willpower and self control, Dorian, I’ve been holding back. You’re not here to tease me today. You’re here because you’ve finally stopped resisting. That was all I was waiting for.”

He smirked at that, for once seemingly at a loss for a comeback. My own shirt removed I stepped back into him, unceremoniously reaching for his groin and finding him hard in his trousers. My free hand wound around his back and I dug my nails into his shoulder, leaning my face down and tracing his collarbone with my tongue.

His breathing hitched, “It seems you’ve caught me,” he admitted.

I groaned into the crook of his neck at that admission. Fucking thank the Gods. My breeches felt stiff and uncomfortable, and as though he’d read my mind his fingers started working at the laces there. His hand brushed against me and even though the feeling was feather light through the leather I sank my teeth into his shoulder. I needed him so badly.

“Please tell me this isn’t just payment for the amulet,” I was suddenly horrified by the notion. When I was injured I had refused his advances because I would not accept his pity. I realized that I’d have to force myself to do the same if this were just some kind of trade. I needed him to want me, not just to be giving me what he knew I wanted.

“In part I suppose it is,” he said, making my heart palpitate, “but it is oh so much more than that.”

I breathed a sigh of relief and half smiled at him. He kissed me then, long and passionate, and then he exploited the weakness he did not know I had. He dropped to his knees.

“Fenhedis,” I cursed, running both my hands through what little hair I had. I didn’t want to be too rough with him, this being our first time together. I didn’t know his limits, I didn’t know how delicate he might be, I didn’t know if I would scare him off. I panicked a little, I had to control myself. That being said, all I wanted in that instant was to grab him by the skull and listen to him choke on me. My fingers twitched.

“Are you all right?” he asked, once again I could feel his voice in my erection. This time he wasn’t lacing UP though.

“It’s a thing,” I gulped, barely able to breathe. “Don’t stop.”

He did not listen. He stopped. “A thing?” he repeated, looking up at me, smirking, with one eyebrow raised in question. He was looking up at me, from his knees, for the second time. Except THIS time it was going to go very differently. There wasn’t enough blood in my brain to process it at the moment. I’d fantasized about this. I’d masturbated to this image. This image haunted my waking days. I chewed on my bottom lip.

“Don’t. Stop.” I growled.

His quizzical expression shifted into an intensely devilish grin. He finished with the lacing and pulled the legs of my trousers down far enough that I could step out of them. I kicked them practically across the room.

He wasted no time closing his hand around the length of me. My head dropped forward a fraction and my eyes drifted shut. I swallowed hard. ‘Please,’ I was thinking.

He kissed the head of my penis ever so gently, barely a brush of his lips and yet I hissed. He squeezed with the hand that was wrapped around it and I whimpered. I should have known that when we finally got to this point he would still torture me with all the measured deliberation he displayed on a regular basis. Self control, I repeated in my mind, you had waited this long already Amheotil, do not rip his hair out and shove yourself down his throat.

“Oh, I like this,” he said, placing another gentle kiss on me.

I opened my golden eyes and found him staring directly back into them from below me, fingers still grasping my shaft. When he’d said ‘primal’ I thought he’d meant primal but what he’d really meant was ‘pure evil’ I was sure of it. If it were anyone else I’d already have been inside them. My brain was going to melt out of my ears if he did not stop his teasing soon. He was so fortunate I respected him as much as I did.

“What?” I breathed.

“Look at you,” he smirked. “You can barely breathe and I have not even done anything yet. You’re practically shaking. What’s your ‘thing’?”

“Dorian,” I moaned, my voice pleading, mostly for his sake. I was losing more faith in my ability to hold it together with every passing instant. “Please, I’ve been so patient I’ve AH!”

He squeezed hard and demanded again, “What’s. The. ‘Thing’?”

“A human... on his knees...” I confessed between gasps for air, he was planting little kisses on my hip as I spoke, “for a ‘knife-ear’. It’s stupid... I know it’s stupid, it’s just a thing with me.” I knew he would not relent until I told him the truth.

He raised an eyebrow in flirtatious curiosity. “I don’t suppose it’s an even greater thrill, then, that I’m a Tevinter human?” 

He seemed wildly amused. We’d had enough conversations about the plight of my people that he caught my meaning loud and clear. Our first night drinking together, back in Haven, he’d served me a cup of wine. This was like that, but so, so much better.

I growled, low and rumbling, and swallowed hard. I was glad he was not upset with me for being so... petty... but all I could think, all I could say was, “Dorian.” It sounded more of a whine.

He started stroking slowly, up and down and up again. His tongue left his mouth and traced a line up the center of the head, tasting me. I sucked my bottom lip into my teeth and bit down to keep from crying out, my nostrils flaring with a string of deep breaths.

“I know this must feel a torture to you,” his voice was low and husky, “and I apologize for that. But you must forgive me for savoring this moment, I do not believe you’re aware of how many times I have pictured it.”

There were no words. There were no thoughts. I took his meaning without really processing it, it resonated not in my mind, but in my soul. All of the teasing, all of the torture. He’d been inflicting it on the BOTH of us. I had been stuck in his mind just as he was stuck in mine.

As I absorbed his statement his mouth descended on me. All. The way. Down. My lips parted without sound. My eyes rolled back as the lids shuttered closed and my toes curled into the rug beneath my feet. My hands instinctively found his hair and balled up in it, tugging, before I remembered I did not want to abuse him. 

Instead I just rested my hands on his head, brows twitching, eyes shut, with a fistful of hair at my disposal for when things got particularly pleasurable. And he was masterful. I could feel myself scraping the back of his throat but he did not gag. His tongue was capable of things I’d never felt before. I remembered his quip to Mother Giselle on the subject of the credit it got. Credit well deserved, indeed, Dorian. I thought on it so hard I actually laughed, although to his ears it might have sounded more like a moan of approval.

He would pull back and tease just the tip before taking it all in again. His hands roamed my body, squeezing my ass here or tenderly tracing my hip bone there. With how lightheaded I was, it was a miracle I could remain standing. It was pure ecstasy, it was everything I’d imagined since the moment I’d laid eyes on him. The single most attractive man in the world and I was finally, at long last, in his fucking perfect mouth. 

And yet. It was not enough. My teeth yearned to find his skin between them. My hands were not satisfied gripping only his hair. I needed to possess him. I needed all of him. I needed to bury my face in the place where collarbone meets throat and inhale him.

I needed... “Dorian,” I exhaled.

“Mmm” he indicated he was listening but he did it still wrapped around my cock.

“I... ah.... need you... to get on the bed,” I was having trouble speaking.

He took his time letting me fall out of his mouth before he stood, one side of his lips turning up in a sly grin before he pulled me in for a kiss. With one hand I cupped his face and when the other went to grab his ass I realized his damned trousers were still on. My fingers got to work on the buttons immediately and he moved his face downward to find my throat, lapping at the Vallaslin there, his fingers curling themselves back around my dick.

“Nnnnn,” came a sound from me. When the buttons were undone I repeated, “The bed.”

He was not listening. He was stroking with his hand between my legs and sucking at my shoulder.

“Dorian,” I was suffocating. Gods, couldn’t he give me one modicum of good will? “The bed.”

He continued to ignore me, only a deep chuckle at my clavicle acknowledged he’d heard me at all. It was that, that little laugh of his, that broke my control. I needed him naked and in my bed, and I needed it now. I threw him onto my mattress with a snarl and tore the breeches from his legs. It was the first time I’d truly seen him nude, his penis was as pretty and perfect as the rest of him, and as hard as my own currently was.

He stared up at me for a moment, eyes fiery and intense, before he leaned his head back and started touching himself. He ‘mmmm’ed and my cock jumped. Would his teasing NEVER cease? I was on top of him in an instant, our mouths joined once more. I pushed the hand he used to stroke himself out of the way in exchange for my own, earning me a satisfied grumble from his throat.

He broke his lips away from mine to ask breathlessly, “How do you want me?”

“Every way I could possibly have you,” I rasped. I meant it, I already knew I did not want this to be our last time together. It was the best sex of my life and it hadn’t even happened yet.

He smirked. “Ambitious, aren’t you?”

I smiled at him, still gripping his cock with my sword hand. I stroked with every word, “You. Are. Extraordinary.”

“As are you,” he moaned. He was running a finger along the blade of my ear, all the way to the tip. I turned my face and pressed a kiss into his palm. His fingers extended to grip my jaw and direct my gaze to meet his. I thought I might have felt a little electricity coursing in those digits, he HAD asked me if I’d ever been with a Mage. I wondered how intense that could get....

We stopped to marvel at one another for a long moment, all my previous sense of urgency dissipating. I simply felt grateful to be here with him at all, grateful this moment had finally come. I leaned down and laid my lips on his. My hand wandered away from his groin to explore the rest of him, all hard muscle and smooth skin. As the kiss deepened I heard him whimper into it and felt his hips twitch upward, searching for friction.

That made me smirk. Who was being tortured now?

I rolled off of him and walked to my desk to retrieve a small jar of carrageenan, which the Dalish used as a lubricant. When I returned he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me back to his mouth. I supposed could make out and open the jar at the same time.

With the lid off of the container I pulled away from him and looked him hard in the eyes.

“You can tell me to stop anytime, and I will,” my breath was labored, I often compared sex to conquest, but I still required permission.

“But if you do it after this point,” I jested, “it might hurt my feelings.”

“You suggested I use you yesterday, asked me if I was all talk,” he said salaciously. “I assure you, Amheotil, I am not. I’m not asking you to stop and I don’t imagine I will be anytime soon.”

I gave him a knowing smirk. We didn’t break eye contact as I coated my fingers, or as I moved my hand to the space between his legs, or as I pressed into him. But that was when he closed his eyes and sighed with his mouth curled up in pleasure. It was the first time I ever appreciated that ridiculous mustache of his, it was perfectly suited to twirl upwards with that exact expression on his face.

My hands were so well practiced in this discipline it was like second nature. I lapped at his neck, down the center of his chest to his abdomen, and nipped at his hip. He gasped and twitched at that before letting out a satisfied ‘mmmm’. Taking him in my mouth, I worked diligently with my fingers to prepare him for what came next.

I had never been more aroused in all my life. The amount of blood in my dick actually hurt, the way it was pounding and demanding to be inside of him. Of course, I had never been with SUCH an attractive person. But he wasn’t just any attractive man, he was Dorian. Dorian of House Fucking Pavus, most recently of My Bedroom.

I withdrew from him and wiped my hand on a corner of the blanket. I couldn’t wait anymore and if I judged him by his fistfuls of bed linens and pleading expression I’d wager he agreed.

I leaned over his chest and parroted his words from before, “How do YOU want ME?”

He responded by turning over. Fenedhis, it was like I’d already told him what all of my favorite things were. I positioned my body behind his and slowly worked myself through the tight ring of muscle that guarded him. He hissed and clutched at the bed, turning to look back at me, wanting. It was surreal to me. Another one of the dreams that I would wake from, erect and alone. Except I could feel him, all tight constriction and body heat. I ran a finger along his spine as I pushed deeper. The noise that came from his lips just then made it challenging not to orgasm right there.

I held myself still inside of him so that he could adjust to me, leaning down to plant kisses on his back, running a hand around to his chest before sliding it down to hold his cock. He bucked against me.

“It appears you are the one who is all talk,” he panted. “I thought in Val Royeaux you said you wanted to FUCK me.”

Well then. That was all I needed to hear. I thrust at a downward angle, my pace becoming unrelenting and forceful.

“Maker! Ah!” he cried out before pressing his face into the mattress. I smiled broadly at that, he’d asked for it.

I knew I wasn’t going to last for an overtly long time. It had been far too long since I’d had another person’s body to give me release. And though I wanted to devastate him my current speed was unraveling me quickly. I hooked an arm around his chest and pulled him up onto his knees with me. I let out a low rumble next to his ear, biting and sucking at the back of his neck and shoulder. I used my other hand to stroke him in tandem with my thrusts.

He was breathing hard and clutching the arm I had wrapped around his torso. I knew I was striking his prostate with every movement by the way he was mewling.

“Am... heo... til,” his brows were furrowed and he was turning his head, looking for my mouth.

I kissed him as forcefully as I was fucking him, shoving my tongue practically into the back of his throat. He moaned frantically into it and let his orgasm take him. I pulled back from the kiss so I could hear the sound that he made. It was a shout to the Maker, and to me, all choked together into a desperate moan. As he relinquished his self control in that moment, I heard the air crackling behind me in the empty center of the room. Lightning. That sent me over the edge too, and I took a chunk of his shoulder into my mouth and bit down hard to stifle my own cry as I finished inside of him. I gave myself a few more thrusts to work it all out of my system before I pulled out.

He leaned his head back to kiss me some more, our lips dancing with each other as we both fell to laying on the mattress, arms and legs entwining to pull us closer to one other. He tucked his head under my jaw and I closed my eyes, breathing in that delicious scent from his hair.

“Dorian,” I was still panting. “Why do you always smell so good?”

“Do I?”

“Heh, I noticed it the day we met.”

“Mmmm,” he said into my chest, “Sandalwood Oil. From Tevinter. One of the few pieces of home I brought with me.”

I smiled and squeezed him tighter to me. Sandalwood, I thought with every breath, I loved Sandalwood. I think I fell asleep then because when I next opened my eyes Dorian was gone from my grasp. My brows drew together at his absence, but I looked up to see him standing naked gazing out the window. I grinned then, because his ass really was perfection and I had finally conquered it. I cleared my throat.

He shot a look over his shoulder at me but did not come back to bed.

“I like your quarters,” he said.

“Do you now?” I asked. I would never understand the way his mind worked. What had made him focus on that now?

“Don’t misunderstand,” he said putting his hands on his hips and turning to walk towards where I lay. “I’m not suggesting we venture into mutual domesticity, I just like your appointments.”

“Ah,” I said as he sat on the edge of the bed. I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Not that I couldn’t suggest some changes, your taste is a little... austere.”

I was tempted to tell him Josephine had chosen everything in this room but the bed but I got the strange feeling that something was on his mind and he was using the decor to preoccupy himself. I knew quite a lot about trying to preoccupy oneself.

“You seem a little... distracted,” I said pushing myself up onto an elbow, my expression concerned. I hoped I had not done anything wrong.

“Sex will do that,” he quipped. “It’s distracting.”

“Ha, yeah, I heard a rumor.” I replied cheekily, but I was still inquiring with my eyes. The way he hung his head told me something was most certainly wrong.

“Very well, you’ve rooted me out, there is something I want,” he took a deep breathe and I moved to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. “I’m curious where this goes, You and I? We’ve had fun, perfectly reasonable to leave it here, get on with the business of killing arch demons and such.”

Where was this coming from? I’d waited so long to finally get here with him, why would I want to drop it now?

“Tell me what YOU want,” I said. No other man had ever had me so wrapped around his finger.

“All on me, then?” he asked.

“Should it be all on me?” I wasn’t going to force him to keep this up if he wasn’t interested. In a way, I was entirely familiar with being used to satisfy the Elvhen curiosity for only a night.

He sighed heavily and looked at his hands in his lap. “I like you. More than I should, more than might be wise. We end it here, I walk away. I won’t be pleased but I’d rather now than later. Later might be dangerous.”

I didn’t know what to say. I liked him too. Was it unwise? If he was talking about the whispers again I was going to scream, we’d been over that. It. Didn’t. Matter.

I admitted to myself that if he walked away now I wouldn’t be pleased either. Yet at the same time, I’d never kept anyone, I supposed I could deal with it if it were what he wanted. But it was not what I wanted and that seemed to be what he was suggesting.

“Why dangerous?” I asked.

He looked saddened. “Walking away might be harder then,” he lamented.

Oh. OH. Well, why did we have to walk away at all? We could all be dead in a week somewhere within Adamant Fortress while demons possessed the world, no one knew what the future held. But so long as I was alive to see my days I wanted to end them each night sharing a glass of wine with THIS man. My fellow misfit. A fierce ally, a man who wanted to change the world for the better.

“I want more than just fun, Dorian,” I confessed. I didn’t know how to tell him all that I felt, teary eyed declarations of adoration were not my forté, but I thought he understood. Though, he said nothing. He was still fixated on the ground in front of him.

“Speechless I see...” I furrowed my brow and squinted at him, trying to prompt him to tell me what was on his mind. He turned his face towards mine, it was lined in pain. 

“I was... expecting something different,” he said, and then he elaborated, “Where I come from anything between two men... it’s about pleasure. It’s accepted, but taken no further. You learn not to hope for more. You’d be foolish to.”

My heart ached for him. He truly was a lover. A deeply sentimental man from a place where he dared not hope for real love to find him. The mask of wit and bravado was beginning to make sense. Of course I couldn’t promise him forever, no more than he could promise it to me. But as long as we were here together, I wanted to have this with him.

“Then let’s be foolish,” I shrugged. When trapped in the current of a river the only way to save yourself from drowning was to hold your breath and let it carry you to calmer waters. I’d been trapped in the current of the Inquisition for a long time now, Dorian made me feel like I could come up for air.

“Hard habit to break,” he said.

I squinted one eye at him and shrugged, “I’m good at breaking things.”

He smiled at that, and I was glad to see he still could. “Hopefully not everything,” he quipped.

“Care to... Inquisite me again?” he then asked me, and I realized he was hard. “I promise I’ll be more specific in my directions this time.”

“Show off,” I tried not to smile, but my face betrayed me as he leaned in and pushed me back into the mattress.

I mean, I had told him I wanted him in every way it was possible to take him. With a warrior’s stamina I reckoned I could endure it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t picture these two really going BDSM style. They’re just both powerful, prideful men and Amheotil being a warrior can make him a bit... aggressive. It’s their first time together so they’re probably BOTH being a bit reserved. Dorian’s magic may be a more important aspect later.


	21. Mythal’Enaste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If anyone read the god awful chapter I posted yesterday and then promptly deleted. I’m sorry. It was downright terrible and everything felt out of character. The spark was just not with me while I was writing it.
> 
> THIS is something I’m far more satisfied with. And I got some loose little ends tied up. And we’re ready for HLtA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keeping track of a timeline for a totally open world video game is HARD. I am trying my best. I apologize if there are any weird inconsistencies.

“It’s been a week since we received word that Adamant is indeed occupied by the Venatori and the Wardens... We’ve been sending ravens to our forces across Thedas to send anyone they can spare to the Western Approach... Our forces in the area have surrounded the castle but they are outnumbered as of yet... They say they see lights every night... how many demons is that?... how many dead bodies is that?... The trebuchets move too slow... but they should be there soon... We cannot allow this to be a drawn out battle... in that desert our men won’t last... It takes us four days to get there from here... Cullen, Hawke, and Stroud already left.... But when do I leave? When do I join them?” I was thinking out loud, pacing back and forth across my chambers absentmindedly doing old drills with Evanura, footwork I could do in my sleep.

“Should I come back later then?”

“Ah!” I had neither heard Dorian enter the room nor seen him approach, I had to literally throw the sword across the room mid swing so as not to see it buried in his neck. It clattered to the floor several feet away.

“Are you crazy?” He hadn’t even flinched.

“Oh please,” he waved a hand at me, “You would never hurt me, I’m fairly certain of that.”

He was right, of course. Though sometimes I might want to sock him in the jaw just to shut him up I couldn’t ever bring myself to actually deliver the blow. I could never hurt him, just as he could never do anything to truly warrant it.

“What’re you doing here, Dorian?” I asked, massaging the space between my brows.

“Is that truly a question?” he asked. “Not a soul has seen you today. I thought ‘well he seemed magnificent when I left him last night’ but now I see you were simply busy spiraling into madness.”

“Heh, you’re not wrong.”

“Come here,” he said stepping toward me. He put a hand on either side of my face, fingers splaying out over my ears and Vallaslin, and kissed my forehead. “There is too much in this head of yours, and for once it is not ME driving away your sanity.... I think I might be jealous.”

I dropped my head onto his shoulder and groaned. Why was he so good?

“I could attempt to take your mind off of it?” he offered, one hand on the back of my neck, chin resting on the back of my head. “Why, I could toss you onto that bed and fuck you until all the stress is just shaken right out.”

My eyes shot open. I cleared my throat and took an abrupt step back from him. We... had not made it to that discussion last night. I can’t imagine what my face must have looked like.

“Not a fan of that idea, I see,” he said.

“Dorian, I...”

“You don’t have to say a thing, Amheotil. I said I imagined there was TENDERNESS in you, not submission. I am not that naive.”

I relaxed at that. It was not something he expected of me, something I was not sure I’d ever be able to give him.

“And I imagine my round ears don’t help matters...” he gave me a knowing smirk. THAT I had not seen coming.

“How did you...?” I was squinting at him. Part of me was really starting to believe the man could read minds. Perhaps Cole...?

“Believe it or not, I actually listen when you speak,” his eyes were warm and understanding. No man, no human especially, had ever looked at me that way. “When it’s not utter drivel, of course.”

His sarcasm came as I was already rushing in to kiss him. He understood. He understood without my having to explain a damned thing. It should not have shocked me, he was a highly intellectual man, he was more than capable of putting two and two together, and yet I would never have thought I’d receive such consideration.

“I could always fall on my knees for you,” he suggested instead.

I snorted into the side of his neck where I was still showering him with appreciative kisses. “No,” I said, smiling. “I mean, yes, please, anytime you want to do that. But perhaps not now. I need to talk to Sera.”

“Are you certain? It is, after all, my favorite place to be,” he whispered seductively.

Well, he most definitely knew how to drive me wild. I growled and smashed my hips into his as I kissed his lips again. Deep and passionate and so, so grateful for him. With all that was on my mind he had, for once, not picked a fight with me for days. He’d been nothing but supportive AND he’d finally had sex with me.

“I meant what I said last night, you are extraordinary.”

“Yes well, you’re correct, and I should hope everyone recognizes and appreciates that about me,” he said with his air of superiority.

I rolled my eyes, grinning.

“What do you need Sera for?” he asked more seriously.

Aaaand the stress was back.

“You saw her,” I explained. “In the Western Approach. I want... I WANT to tell her that she doesn’t have to fight at Adamant... if she doesn’t want to. She has time to think about it, I ... don’t even know when I’m leaving... And I don’t want her to think it’s an insult I just...”

“You’re concerned,” he quieted my rambling. “She has a good and gentle heart, Sera. Not at all a LADY, Maker, no! She is fierce, and capable, and courageous, but she cares an awful lot.”

I nodded. “Exactly.”

“It is good of you to offer her the choice, she will likely swear at you about it either way she decides.”

I realized something else had been nagging me. “You... have the choice too, Dorian.” Truth be told I was terrified that in that Gods forsaken desert I would end up watching him die.

“And I choose to fight beside you,” he refused my thinly veiled request for him to remain safe in Skyhold.

I had confidence in Dorian’s ability. I was not even sure that I could take him down if we were truly to do battle. That much raw power...

Still, I pictured that Giant’s hand bearing down on him and the way I’d felt my stomach drop when I’d seen it. Would I get there in time? What if there came a day that the answer was no?

“I could always ORDER you to stay,” I jested.

“You certainly could!” he agreed, adding, “And I would try not to follow TOO closely on the trail behind you, so that you could feel like I listened.”

I laughed at that. Of course that was his response. And I could imagine that’s EXACTLY what he’d do, which only made the hilarity greater.

“You know what?” I said to him, pursing my lips. “Would YOU care for a drink?”

“It’s rather early in the afternoon,” he sounded skeptical but continued with, “so yes, sounds wonderful.”

We walked down to the Herald’s Rest together, and I ignored the eyes of the nobles that followed us as we passed. Dorian was acting aloof, as he did, but the way he fidgeted with the buckles on his bracers did not escape my attention. I thought we could talk about that later.

We asked Cabot to bring a round to our usual table and I ascended the stairs to find Sera. Krem was in her cabinet with her, out of his armor which I rarely saw. I wondered if there was something going on between them and I raised an eyebrow, but didn’t pry.

“Inquisitor!” Krem addressed me. “The Chargers await you’re command, ser, but I’m guessing you’re here to talk to her.” He jerked a thumb in Sera’s direction. She was lying upside down on her seat, legs against the window, head hanging off the edge.

I nodded. “You’d be right about that, but we just ordered a round. Dorian’s down there if you feel like drinking.”

“Careful, you’re starting to sound like Bull,” he chuckled and clapped me on the shoulder as he passed me to presumably join Dorian downstairs.

Sera had flipped herself right side up and said “You found me, let’s hear it.”

“Sera do you WANT to be part of this?” might as well spit it out. We all had the battle on our minds, it wasn’t as if she wouldn’t know what I was talking about.

“No,” she snorted. “But I am.”

“Well,” I furrowed my eyebrows, not sure if that was a yes or a no. “You could stay here, is all I’m saying.”

“Is this ‘cause I puked?” she asked. “It smelled TERRIBLE, I wasn’t SCARED. No way I’m lettin’ you boys go off and fight without me, yeah?”

I smirked. Even if she was lying about how she felt, and I was only kind of sure she was, she was determined.

“Last chance to back out is all I’m saying.”

“Listen. It’s shite. THAT’s obvious, innit? But that’s why I’ve gotta go put an arrow right in Coryphemer’s eye, right?” she made the gesture of pulling back a bowstring and something like an arrow hitting her eye and then she added sound effects.

I was chuckling. “Knew I could count on you.”

“Oh yeah right,” she rolled her eyes, shoved her way past me, and walked backwards towards the stairs so that she was still facing me. “Did you come here to drink or what?”

I followed after her and we joined Krem and Dorian at our table. Bull burst in a short while later.

“I love company after a good sparring match!” he boomed when he saw us.

Grim was looking a little worse for the wear behind him. He acknowledged us with a hand gesture.

My merry band of misfits.

“So... tomorrow then?” I asked. These were the faces I was most afraid of losing. These people were more than my compatriots, they were my friends. They were my clan. The clan I’d found within the confines of the stone walls and fancy tunics of the Inquisition.

“Tomorrow!” shouted Bull raising his cup.

“Tomorrow!” they all joined in and I raised my cup with them.

It would take four days to get to the Western Approach. The trebuchets were slow, but they’d be there when we arrived, as would Hawke, Stroud, and Cullen. We’d sent the ravens, reinforcements were on their way.

For the first time, I felt ready. I hoped it wasn’t just the booze that was responsible.

———————————

It was hours later and the sun had fallen when Dorian and I collapsed, naked, next to each other in my bed. His fingers were still crackling with electricity as he rode through the aftershocks of his orgasm. I opened one eye to peek over at him, satisfied smile on his face while he still twitched.

“Why does that happen?” I asked.

He opened his own eyes as the crackling dissipated. “Why are Mages dangerous?” he asked in return.

“Possession?” I said.

“Mmm,” he affirmed. “When a mage loses control, they are liable to do all kinds of terrible things. Half the house fires in Tevinter start with very good sex.”

I purred and rolled over to hold him. “So I make you lose control?”

“Just a little,” he whispered and then added more vivaciously, “If I lost it all, you’d be dead! Ha! I laugh but it has happened.”

“You killed a lover did you?”

“Not me, no, I’m a far better mage than to allow that.”

Stupid, sexy, smug, arsehole. I kissed him.

“I suppose I should thank you, then, for not killing me.”

He chuckled, “I rather think I could say the same to you.”

I snorted and laid on his chest. We stayed that way for some time, I just listened to the sound of his heartbeat, my head rising and falling with his breathing.

“It’s getting late,” he eventually murmured. “I should go.”

I squeezed him with the arm I had draped over him. “Stay,” I said.

“That might be unwise,” he tried to argue.

“If this is our last night in this bed, and it could be...” I emphasized, “I want you to stay.”

“A fair argument,” Dorian conceded. “Have it your way. But when you start hearing titters at the breakfast table do not say I did not advise you against this.”

“Oh, how many times must I say it Dorian? Fen’Harel take the lot of them! I would wake in the morning and walk down those stairs naked as the day I was born and no one would even notice you walking through the door with me, if that was what it took to ease your mind.”

I meant it too.

“The nonsense you come up with...”

“We could chalk it up to me being Dalish,” I suggested. “Make up an absurd holiday? Bizarre nude ritual?”

His chest was shaking with laughter and I propped myself up on an elbow to look at him.

“Ah yes,” he was getting into it. “Everyone knows that the 32nd Monday of the year is Ghilana Day, where every Dalish man must eat breakfast naked and play the lute on top of the tallest tower they can find.”

“Did you just name that holiday after your Hart?”

“Is he MY Hart?” he asked.

“Oh he’s definitely your Hart, he snorts at me when I come to the stables without you,” I said truthfully.

“He deserves his own holiday, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely, I need to learn to play the lute, and quickly. Is tomorrow even Monday?”

“I don’t actually know.”

We were giggling like children. The opposite side of the coin to how angry he could make me, was that I never LAUGHED like this with anyone else.

He sighed. “Amheotil, it takes more than thinly veiled accusations and spurious rumors to get to ME. The one I am concerned for is YOU.”

“And I appreciate your input. But so long as I keep making decisions because they are the right thing to do, people will see that our relationship does not change the course of the Inquisition. They’re fucking ORLESIANS, if I were boring they’d just make something up.”

“I suppose I can’t argue with that,” he submitted.

“Good. Then it’s settled. You’ll stop worrying about it and go to sleep.”

I buried my face in his neck and breathed him in. Sandalwood. I closed my eyes and held him tight.

“Mythal’enaste,” I whispered.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I smirked.

I wasn’t about to admit I was asking Mythal the Protector, the Allmother, to watch over him. In fact, I felt like a bit of a Harellan saying it for a Tevinter, but it needed to be said. There was not a single other Dalish elf in the Inquisition. There was no ceremony for us tonight meant to see us safely to battle. No prayer to protect us.

It didn’t hurt me that there wasn’t, Mythal had never once appeared to shield my kinsmen on a battlefield. I’d lost plenty of friends.

But I said it for superstition’s sake. Please, please, watch over him.


	22. Here Lies the Abyss Pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle at Adamant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorian can do all kinds of magic and I rarely write about it so this chapter features some fun diversity in that aspect.

The battle to open the gate was fierce. Trebuchets launched flaming projectiles at the Wardens on the walls to keep the path clear for a massive battering ram to break the gates, even then the men on the ground were being bombarded by stones and arrows from above. Cullen had arrived ahead of us in order to make sure each soldier on the field knew what their directives were. We just had to get ourselves inside.

The gate was starting to crack. The sound of the wood rending on the ancient iron hinges was loud enough to carry over the field of violence.

Krem was somewhere out there, along with the rest of the Chargers. My jaw twitched. The warrior in me was itching for it. The Fight. I was a leader now, a commander. Which meant that I stood back and waited for that battering ram. That the ‘less important’ people fought MY way through. I wasn’t accustomed to it in the least and my face was drawn in hard lines as I watched.

‘Falon’Din enasal enaste,’ I thought silently as I took note of our men who lay dead already, ‘shiral mala ghilana.’

The gate screamed against the battering ram, pitching inward. One more hit would surely be the end of it.

“Are you ready?” I asked my companions without tearing my eyes away from the fighting.

“Is that a real question?” Bull chuckled behind me. “Krem’s already gonna have my ass for showing up late.”

“Yeah he is,” Sera snickered.

I shot a sideways glance at Dorian. He just nodded.

The gate burst out of its frame and we stepped into a stone courtyard. Warden warriors were prepared for us, advancing on every side, but arrows were already whizzing past us into their helmets.

“Bits up, Face down!” Sera exclaimed as they fell dead.

Those that were not shot were shocked as Dorian unleashed a barrage of lightning bolts. A Warden on the wall called for the rest to pull back as he watched our frightening display.

Cullen came through behind us. “All right, Inquisitor, you have your way through. We’ll keep the forces occupied down here for as long as we can.”

“I’ll be fine,” I insisted. “Just keep the men safe.”

“And the women too!” shouted Sera.

“We’ll do what we have to. Warden Stroud will guard your backs, Hawke is on the battlements, he’s assisting our soldiers until you arrive,” he was saying. We heard a scream, and a thud. We all looked up to see a vile looking demon on the wall, tossing our soldiers over the edge.

“There’s too much resistance, our men on the ladders can’t get a foothold,” Cullen hissed. “If you can clear out the battlements, we’ll cover your advance.”

I nodded and he rushed back to the troops outside the shattered gates. He was a good man, Cullen, and an even better Knight Commander. We ascended the stairs, killing everything in our path. Demons and Wardens. Wardens and Demons. Arrows, blood, lightning, guts, blades, gore.

I was wholly focused. We’d fought so many times, the four of us. The very reason I’d been afraid to bring them was the biggest reason we were safer together; we all cared for one another. Bull would be flanked and that attacker would take an arrow in the throat. Sera would be flanked and my shield would guard her back. If there were ever too many, we would all move in closer to Dorian who would electrify the very air around us and paralyze every enemy on the field. We operated as a team with deadly efficiency.

We made our way to the battlements to attempt to find Hawke, if he still lived, and found our path blocked by a group of our soldiers battling a formidable Pride demon. They rejoiced at the sight of us, one was already injured but still going hard with one arm. The sight of it flared in my heart, we owed much and more to the little people.

“Kaffas,” I heard Dorian mutter. His lightning did not affect these particular monsters. I always found it ironic that the man with the ego and the demon created of uncontrolled pride bore the same magic.

“Guess you’ll have to rain fire,” I grinned at him as I took off toward the creature with Bull. He did just that. Although, the burning spheres seemed smaller today, as if he were trying to spare me and Bull the possibility of ending up in their way. I noted that he’d never cared about that before. Was he being soft on my account? I knew he had better control of the lightning, but we couldn’t afford to have him holding back.

“Is that all you’ve got, Dorian?” I shouted at him as I blocked the beast swiping at me with my bulwark.

I couldn’t see his face, nor did he say a word, but the ground beneath the demon exploded and for a moment it was engulfed in flame. That was more like it.

The demon had at least thirty arrows buried in its flesh, and Bull had left a gaping slice across its chest. If I could drive my sword through that gash...

The air around me swirled with a violet mist. It sounded like whispers, or far away wails. And It was cold as the grave. I turned to see Dorian’s face looking gaunt, lips moving, mouthing words for a spell I could not hear. His Necromancy. 

Sera was watching his back as he cast, ready to shove him out of the way if something went awry. Sera, who was afraid of magic, defending a Necromancer, the most feared kind of mage. It was glorious.

Suddenly I remembered the image of the two of them standing in the doorway of the Chantry all the way back in Haven. I had nodded for them to run, to leave me. I had not known then that they were my very best friends.

Dorian’s spell was causing the demon to panic. As it’s arms went flailing about I saw my opportunity to drive Evanura into the wound Bull had given it. Bull saw, and immediately understood, what my plan was and came in from behind to slash at the back of its legs. As it stumbled backward I was able to achieve more downward momentum, sinking my blade almost to the hilt.

The demon did not get back up.

The soldiers thanked us, and sent us ahead.

“Take care of that arm!” Sera shouted to the injured one as we continued to search for Hawke.

When at last we came upon him, he and two Inquisition soldiers were being swarmed by Warden warriors. I tried to reason with them but they’d been told that Inquisition would attempt to manipulate their loyalties. It was no use.

It was the first time I’d really seen what Hawke was capable of. A few men in the Ritual Tower had been nothing to us, THIS was war. Witnessing it firsthand gave me a deeper understanding of Varric’s respect for the man, and how they’d managed to survive the Darkspawn when so many others did not.

“I thought your men could use some help up here!” he shouted as he was casting.

“Good work,” I replied, pulling Evanura out of the Warden who now lay dead at my feet, “Stay with them, see that they survive this.”

He nodded. The wall was cleared of enemies for now, we all advanced toward the Main Bailey, toward Commander Clarel’s position within the keep.

When we found them a massive Rift stood open in the center of the Bailey, and they all stood looking up at the woman I assumed to be the Warden Commander. So that was Clarel. Beside her stood Erimond. The sight of him set my blood to boiling. That man would die today. I did not forgive his escaping the first time we’d met.

I tried to convince them all that they were being lied to. I tried to tell them that Corypheus was behind all of this. I asked Stroud to tell them. All to no avail. They would not hear me.

As I tried to make them listen to the truth, the Venatori mage started smacking his staff into the ground. “My master thought you’d come here, Inquisitor! He sent me this to welcome you.”

I did not understand, but I watched Clarel’s face as she suddenly did. Then I heard the sound of wings. Enemies all joined together for just that moment to look up. Corypheus’ corrupted dragon was soaring overhead. It landed on top of a tower and screeched into the night sky.

Well... shit.

I looked at the faces of the Wardens, did they believe me now? At the very least, Clarel did. She unleashed her magic on Erimond before turning her glare toward the dragon. Erimond saw her intentions and pleaded her to change her mind, but there was no mercy in her eyes, she cast at the gargantuan reptile to draw its attention.

It released its breath in her direction, striking the stone between her and the Venatori mage, giving him opportunity to flee. She chased after him, and I after the both of them.

No. He was not getting away this time. I would not allow it. My companions and I fought our way to the path they had taken, and followed at a sprint. Stroud and Hawke both on our heels.

Demons impeded us at every turn but proved to be no match. My heart was pounding, and my breath was labored, but I was filled with confidence in my companions and determination of our goal. Suddenly, it did not seem a hopeless battle. We were still alive, we’d made it this far, Erimond, at the very least, was within our grasp.

I heard wings once more, and saw the dragon’s head emerge between two pillars, ready to incinerate our entire party. Sera was firing toward our rear flank and I was forced to shove her out of the way of the blast, landing practically on top of her.

Bull, being Bull, dodged the flames and swung his greatsword at the dragon’s throat with a booming laugh. Glad someone was having a good time.

“Sorry,” I muttered, returning to my feet as the beast retreated and offering a hand to pull my friend up.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you back,” she assured me as she took my hand.

The winged demon continued to rain destruction on the castle walls as we hurried after our foe. We reached the Commander and Erimond as they were battling each other on top of the keep.

The Venatori was hurling spells at Clarel but her barrier was impenetrable. She was enraged that he’d destroyed the Wardens, he told her to blame herself. I agreed she’d gotten herself and countless innocent warriors into this mess, but I still favored her for victory.

“You could have served a new God!” he snarled from the ground where she’d put him.

“I will NEVER serve the Blight!” she shot back.

We moved to approach her now that Erimond seemed defeated, but as we did the corrupted dragon descended seemingly from nowhere and took Clarel whole into its jaws. Sera shouted in shock. My own face pulled back in horror. Bull grunted, Dorian gasped, Hawke and Stroud held themselves by the heart. The stone terrace shook and a gust of wind and dirt hit us all as the dragon took back to the sky with her body, only to land atop a wall nearby, shaking her like a rag doll and spitting her back onto the stone.

She rolled over. Fenedhis, she was ALIVE? I didn’t have time to concern myself with aiding her, the dragon had set its sights on me. It stood between us and the way we’d come, trapping us between its threatening teeth and a hundred feet of freefall. 

I ushered the others to stand behind me. I was the one Corypheus wanted, after all. Perhaps if the dragon killed me, it would leave the others be. We would fight it, of course, I just didn’t know that we would win. I tried to come up with any kind of strategy as it advanced, there wasn’t much space to maneuver and the damned thing could always fly away.

“In war, victory,” I heard Clarel’s voice. “In peace, vigilance,” she was charging up one last spell. My breath was shaky, I knew what she meant to do. It was what I would have done. It was noble. “In death,” she discharged a massive electrical force into the chest of the beast that now stood looming over her, never finishing her vow.

“Move!” I shouted as the dragon crumbled and rolled over us, toppling off the ledge. It seemed impossible that none of us were taken down with it, but that wasn’t going to matter long if we didn’t get off of this platform. The force of the dragon’s weight had cracked the stones, the entire thing was on the verge of collapse. We all sprinted towards the safety of the archway but we simply weren’t fast enough to beat the speed of the destruction. The floor beneath us plummeted to ruin, and we with it.

“No,” it was my only thought. “It does NOT end like this.”

That was when I felt the mark burning up my arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my Amheotil play file I never did convince the Wardens to join me in the battle. I can’t remember exactly but I think one of them spit at me. Rude. Decided to split this quest into two chapters to prevent this one from being god awfully long.


	23. Here Lies the Abyss pt 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If it feels like I was rushing, that’s because I was. LAWD. The trip into the Fade could have easily been 2 if not 3 chapters. But we’ve all played it soooo bear with me. Y’all probably don’t wanna re hash it too in depth anyway, I know I didn’t. And I TRIED to not make this longer than it had to be.

“Where are we?” asked Stroud. He was... above me? I was beyond disoriented. The entire sky was Rift, things floated oddly through empty space. Was this... ?

“We were falling...” he was clearly trying to talk himself through it.

“Perhaps we landed,” said Hawke, who was entirely upside down. “But this is not how I remember the Fade.”

The Fade? Sera was rising from the ground, dusting off her leggings. I looked around frantically searching for Dorian. Where was he? And where was The Iron Bull? I swallowed hard, panicked. The mark on my hand still burned. I could remember something like a Rift opening as we hurtled toward the ground. I had brought us here.

“The first time I entered the Fade it looked like a lovely castle filled with gold and silks,” I breathed an enormous sigh of relief at the sound of his voice. Dorian was alive. I gave a thousand thanks to Mythal and swore I’d never doubt her again.

“I met a marvelous Desire demon, as I recall. We chatted and ate grapes before he attempted to possess me,” Dorian was still talking. Was I jealous of a demon right now? I’d ask about that later. “Perhaps the difference is that we are here physically, this is no one’s dream.”

Sera was loosing a string of profanities, terrified. “Shitballs, fuck, shit, Fade, demons, crap.”

“What she said,” Bull had appeared from behind one of the floating boulders. I squeezed my eyes closed and took a deep breath, they were ALL alive. Our circumstances were dire but we hadn’t lost anyone yet. “I’ll fight whatever you give me, Boss, but nobody said anything about getting dragged through the ass end of Demon Town.”

If I hadn’t felt so lost I might have laughed.

“They say you walked out of the Fade at Haven,” said Stroud. “Was it like this?”

“I don’t know,” I answered. “I still can’t remember what happened the last time I did this.”

I knew I’d been here before only because people told me it was so. In MY mind there was an oppressive black gap between arriving at the Conclave and waking up in chains.

“Well, whatever happened in Haven we can’t assume we’re safe now,” Hawke asserted. “That huge demon was right on the other side of the Rift Erimond was using. There could be others.”

He was right. I remembered seeing something monstrous through the Rift in the Bailey. What they had wanted to bind to Clarel.

“In the real world the Rift was nearby,” posited Stroud. “Could we escape the same way?”

“Beats waiting around for demons to find us, right?” I said. I could see what looked like a hole in the strange green sky. I gestured toward it, “There. Let’s go.”

We started walking, every one of us taking in our bizarre surroundings. There were waterfalls with no clear sources, every footstep reverberated off of nothing, and all was tinted a sickly shade of green.

Dorian caught up to me. “My trips to the Fade are normally more pleasant, I usually don’t wake up feeling the need to bathe,” his sarcasm was a welcome sound at the moment. “Usually. Sometimes. Well... nevermind that.”

Gods I was just glad he was here and breathing and uninjured. I cocked an eyebrow at him though, we were DEFINITELY talking about that if we got out of here alive.

“I hate this,” Sera was muttering.

Bull was blaming Krem. This was the first time I’d heard that joining the Inquisition had been HIS idea. I had to remember to thank him for that if we survived. If HE survived. Fuck, I hoped Krem had survived. I wished Solas were here, he would know better than any of us what to do. All we had was... walking.

We passed strange statues and lonely mirrors, through murky water and swirling mist, narrow little canyons opening into wide open spaces that dropped off into nothing. The whole place made me reasonably uncomfortable. It took me a while to pinpoint what was nagging me, but then I realized there was no SMELL. The air here was just... air. If the scent of Dorian’s Sandalwood Oil had not been there to occasionally waft my way and keep me sane I didn’t know what I would have done. 

We kept moving until we came upon something that seemed out of place even here. I recognized her from the vision in Haven. Divine Justinia. 

She wasn’t REALLY Justinia, I didn’t think. It didn’t feel like talking to a person. It just looked like her. Solas had said the Fade was full of remembrances, he’d told me stories about memories he’d relived here, perhaps she was just that. She was also reminiscent of Cole, a spirit with a human form, but not a demon. She was right in any case, it didn’t matter what she was, we had to keep moving forward. She wasn’t attacking, which made her the only ally I had at the moment that knew anything about ANYTHING about this place. She knew about the Nightmare in control here and his association to Corypheus.

Most importantly, she knew I couldn’t recall the Conclave and she knew how to change that. We killed the Shades in the valley below where we met her. Each one returned a piece of me to myself. It felt like a blinding migraine, and everyone reacted.

I had heard her cries for help, the real Divine, back then. The Warden mages... they’d done this. I had to believe they’d already been bound when it happened. They would never have done it if Corypheus had revealed himself before they were. At least, that’s what I told myself to quiet the rage.

“So, your mark did not come from Andraste. It came from the orb Corypheus used in his ritual,” said Stroud.

That was actually satisfying. I’d always said I was no holy savior, even when I hadn’t known if it was true. But it was.

The Justinia spirit revealed that there was more of my memory missing, that I needed to attain it in order to be free of this place. Well, that was a goal I could work toward.

Behind me Hawke and Stroud were arguing over the Wardens in the vision. Hawke blamed them, Stroud excused them. I was perfectly capable of doing both. What they did agree on was that we had to press onward.

The Divine intended to chart a course for us, with a warning that the Nightmare now knew we were here. The others followed the spirit but Dorian caught me by the elbow.

“Are you all right?” his face was harrowed, though I’m not sure what part of all of this was causing it.

“I will be when we’re all out of here,” I tried to sound strong, sure of myself, for his sake. He couldn’t be distracted, he couldn’t be worried. We all had to focus.

He nodded his understanding but gave my arm a little squeeze before joining the others. Then, as if we’d challenged this place to get any worse, a voice reverberated through the atmosphere.

“Ah, we have a visitor. Some foolish little boy comes to steal the fear I so kindly lifted from his shoulders,” it growled. Must’ve been the Nightmare. “You should’ve left the fear where it lay, forgotten. You think the pain will make you stronger, what fool would believe such drivel? The only one who grows stronger from your fears is me.But you are a guest here in my home, so, by all means, let me return what you have forgotten.”

This demon was the fool. I longed to remember what had happened when I received this mark. What I feared was returning to Skyhold without any of these faces by my side. But that fear DID make stronger. It made me fight harder when his little demon friends came for us. We were following the path the Divine set out, up these stairs, down those stairs, there was no sense to it all, just enemies to be slaughtered and disturbing imagery in every corner.

“Perhaps I should be afraid, facing the most powerful members of the Inquisition,” the Nightmare spoke again, mocking us.

“The Qunari will make a lovely host for one of my minions,” it taunted Bull. “Or maybe I will ride his body myself.”

Bull growled back, “I’d like to see you try.”

I was scowling. I did not know who to blame for this mess. The natural instinct was to blame myself. I’d opened the Rift, I’d brought us here. But I was not the one who started the fight. I was not the one who powered up that damned orb. So why was I feeling guilty?

“Sera, Sera, Sera... if you shoot an arrow at me, I’ll know where you are,” threatened the Nightmare. I ground my teeth together. Sera, who I’d wanted to leave at Skyhold. Sera, who WAS terrified in this hellscape. My fault.

“Get out of my head, bitchballs,” her voice was quaking. If she died here I’d never forgive myself.

Then the demon had the audacity to speak to MY man and my blood boiled. I was already fed up with this garbage and now I couldn’t wait to meet it face to face, because I was going to slice that face clean off its body.

“Greetings Dorian,” it said. “It is Dorian, right? For a moment I mistook you for your father.”

“Rather uncalled for,” he remarked, pursing his lips. Preying on his relationship with his father... it was beyond low.

And all this while the Nightmare was sending hordes of demons to oppose our escape.

“Did you think you mattered Hawke? Did you think anything you ever did mattered? You couldn’t even save your city, and you thought you could face a God? Now you will die like the rest of your family, like everyone you ever cared about.”

I didn’t know Hawke well, but I knew he mattered to Varric. I had not been aware of all he’d lost, but I was certain of that one thing.

“Of course a Fear demon would know where to hurt us most. We must ignore it,” Hawke said, shrugging off his obvious discomfort.

I was already past ignoring it. The Nightmare would pay for this.

When we finally caught up with the Justinia spirit, I’d regained all of my memories. It was making my head throb. It had never been Andraste behind me in the Fade, it had been her. I had lost her.

And it all made sense. Corypheus had attempted to bind the Nightmare to her and when I gained the mark I had transported the Divine and I here, just as I had done to us at Adamant. And when we had both been so close to surviving, she had been ripped from my grasp. No wonder the demon had been able to take the memory so easily, not being able to save them... it was my GREATEST fear. 

Once I understood, the spirit revealed her true form. She was made of golden light. Memory, Fade spirit, or the soul of the Divine herself, it did not matter. She was the only reason we had any chance of making it back to our own realm.

Stroud seemed disappointed, Hawke was still harboring anger about the Wardens’ part in all of this. We were all in dire straits, I understood the stress and emotion behind their bickering but I couldn’t tolerate it.

“This debate can wait until we’re out of danger,” I demanded, whipping around to face them.

“The Nightmare has found us,” was the last thing the golden entity said to us before it dissipated.

The Nightmare’s spiderlings descended from all directions, a seemingly endless number of them.

“Ugh, what ARE they?” Sera cried, firing arrows into spider after spider.

“Spiders!” said Hawke as he lit the ground on fire. “Makes sense the Nightmare would choose such a common fear.”

“I don’t see any spiders!” she retorted, sounding panicked.

I found myself sticking close to her. I would not let the fear consume her, she had to know I was there. I would get her out of here if it meant my own death, I would get her out of here and she could leave the Inquisition and never look at a demon again. I swore it.

I was soaked through with sweat and murkwater and demon blood. I was frustrated at our being here and I... I WAS afraid we might not get out. I was afraid ending up in this place had only prolonged the inevitable, made us work for our deaths. It would have been easier just to hit the ground.

The way to our exit was long and arduous. The closer we got, the more the Nightmare threw at us. Clearly it did not wish to see us freed from this horror. And when, at long last, we reached the Rift that would bring us to safety a creature I’d never seen was there to greet us.

A true Fear demon, I supposed. Was it the Nightmare, itself? The battle raged. Dorian and Hawke fired every spell they knew at it while The Iron Bull rushed in with his greatsword. Sera loosed arrow after arrow into its skeletal chest. Stroud and I fought the spiderlings as they tried to swarm our companions.

Just keep swinging your sword Amheotil, I told myself though I could no longer feel my arms, exhausted as they were.

And when I thought it might be over, when the creature I thought might be the Nightmare had fallen, the real Nightmare emerged. It was the size of a city. It was what we’d seen through the Rift in the Bailey at Adamant.

We couldn’t fight THAT. We were all spent. We’d been engaged in battle since we set foot through the gates of Adamant. Dorian was drinking a draught of Lyrium. DORIAN was out of magic. Sera had tears on her face. Bull was hunched over leaning on his greatsword. If we charged for the Rift, maybe half of us would make it. Maybe.

Someone had to distract the beast.

Stroud and Hawke were arguing over which should stay. I was the commander. I was the leader. I was the Inquisitor. They looked to me.

I wanted to choose myself. I knew the Inquisition needed my mark and I knew Bull would toss me over his shoulder and drag me out of here if I tried it. I knew I would break Dorian’s heart and Sera would call me stupid. Even still, I wanted to choose me.

When I looked at Hawke’s face, all I could see was Varric. My first friend in the Inquisition. A man who died for me in the Red Future. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t make that sacrifice for him.

“Stroud...” I rasped. I wanted to say more. I wanted to thank him. We wouldn’t have found Adamant without him. Corypheus would have bound that abomination to Clarel and the entire world would be doomed. He had already saved us, and I had to ask him to do it again.

He didn’t hesitate for even a second. He took off, holding back the Nightmare single handedly, clearing a path for us to make it to the Rift.

We hastened toward it, I waved everyone else through, but I could not help but look back. There was no use thinking I could aid him. It was just end with both of us dead, rending his martyrdom meaningless. A single tear traced the Vallaslin down my cheek.

Halam’shivanas. Ir Abelas.

I stepped through the Rift and into the Bailey of the Adamant Fortress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who don’t speak Elvhen:
> 
> Falon’Din enasal enaste- a prayer for the dead (essentially the ferrymen’s blessing)
> 
> Shiral mala ghilana- something like “May he guide your journey” (made it up as a finish to Falon’Din’s prayer using known Elvhen vocabulary)
> 
> Halam’shivanas - the sweet sacrifice of duty
> 
> Ir Abelas - I’m sorry


	24. After Adamant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amheotil is not kosher with losing a man on the job. I eat angst for breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I snagged JUST the romance dialogue out of the cutscene after Adamant and moved it here, where it belongs in THIS story. It’s actually weirdly inserted in that cutscene anyway so like... I’m hacking that shit up because I’m the writer and I can.

We took Griffin Wing keep while in the Western Approach and left some of our troops stationed there in order to keep an eye and a hold on the area. It had not provided my any solace. I wasn’t sleeping and I was barely eating. I hadn’t spoken much since I’d told the whole of the Inquisition and what was left of the Wardens that Stroud had died a hero.

Krem had survived, along with the other Chargers, for which I immensely appreciative, but it did not dull the hollowness in my chest. Erimond was in chains. I already knew I would kill the Venatori myself. Half of me had been angry when I learned he still lived, the other half sadistically pleased I’d be able to see his eyes when his head left his body.

What was left of us marched back to Skyhold as a horde, staying mostly in established camps along the route home. I managed to keep myself together in front of all the others, grim and brooding certainly, but that wasn’t exactly a new trait to them. Yet internally I was devastated. 

The first night of our return journey I had left camp on Elgar’nan, alone. And when I had been far enough away I had let the white hot tears of rage and regret pour out of me and into his fur, hugging his neck, arched over on his back, teeth grit together so as not to scream. So much emotion I didn’t know what to do with it all. We had won a great victory, we had denied Corypheus his demon army, but the man to whom most of the credit was due was not here to receive it. And there were those who were trying to pass it on to ME. 

I didn’t want it. It wasn’t mine to claim.

I had lost friends many times, I should have been accustomed to grief, but this was entirely different. Because I had lost friends but never on purpose, they had been casualties not... sacrifices. It had never been for the sole purpose of saving myself.

Of course I was grateful for my life. Of course I was grateful for my friend’s lives. But I had never said thank you. I had snapped at Stroud that he could bicker with Hawke when we escaped the Fade, but HE never did. And now, what to do with the remaining Wardens would fall on me and I did not have a Warden Commander I trusted to consult. Hawke had been right, Stroud could have rebuilt them, I wasn’t positive I could say the same of Blackwall.

Had I made the wrong decision? Of course I had. Because it should have been me. I didn’t know why I couldn’t stop telling myself that when the entire Inquisition would have told me it was not true, but it was all that repeated in my head.

And I had sealed the damned Rift. If Stroud had seen an opening to leap out of the Fade, however impossible that seemed, his exit would no longer have been there. I had trapped him. I had lifted my hand and the Mark had worked it’s magic and I had sealed the damned Rift.

It should have been me.

So tonight I was drinking. Rather heavily. Tomorrow we would reach Skyhold but I could not say what came after.

The camp was enormous, an entire square mile of tents and soldiers. Many had been lost in the battle but we had an army yet. Frankly, it was overstimulating. All of the voices and smells of cooking over campfires, the sheer number of people. And they had the gall to be celebrating. I heard laughter and had to choke down the urge to slaughter one of my own men.

The look on my face had warned them to keep well enough away from me for days. I could not have fished a smile out of the blackness of my soul even if it had been the only weapon against Corypheus. I had spoken to Cullen about our next steps and nothing more, I had not talked to him since then. Even the Knight Commander seemed to understand he should leave me be for a time.

Sera wasn’t ready to talk about it, but she was glad to be back. She, Bull, Krem, and the Chargers invited me to their little circle of tents at every camp we reached, always to be politely refused. Let them celebrate without me souring the mood.

So I sat alone by my fire, thinking that if I could drink myself into a stupor perhaps I would pass out long enough to feel like I’d gotten some sleep. Perhaps it would soak through the part of my mind that replayed the image of the Nightmare any time I closed my eyes. Snow was falling softly around me at the base of the Frostbacks. Peaceful. Away from the thousands of followers.

Elgar’nan bleated at the sound of approaching footsteps, I didn’t even look away from the flames. Dorian sat beside me without saying a word and without touching me. He had been giving me space, just like the rest, tonight he’d apparently decided to attempt a different strategy. I was relieved I had not been the death of him, but I was unable to take any real joy in it. I just glared into the fire, hunched in silence.

I held out the bottle I was drinking directly from, not that there was much left in it. It was simply a gesture of acknowledgement, I still did not meet his eyes. I felt him take it from my hands and then I heard him sigh heavily, and the slosh of liquid as he tipped it back to his lips. With my hands free I sank my face into them.

“What can I do?” he asked quietly.

I just shook my head, palming my eyes and scratching my head. There was nothing TO do.

“Would you like me to stay?” he asked.

I didn’t know how to answer that. I finally looked up at him, face drawn in unimaginable pain. He handed the bottle back to me. I closed my fingers around it and leaned forward, elbows on my knees, letting it dangle there in my grasp. 

It should have been me.

“Fuck me,” I rasped. As far as the first thing you could say to somebody in a number of days, it was an... interesting choice.

“If... that is what you think will help...” he replied, unsure.

“No,” I said turning to look at him, eyes glinting gold in the firelight. “I mean... fuck. me.”

He took my implication and just barely shook his head. It seemed a fine idea to me, it had occurred to me many times on this journey. I needed to hurt. I needed my pain to be real and physical. I needed it in my nerve endings, in my flesh. I couldn’t stand it residing solely in my chest and behind my eyes, a lump in my throat constantly threatening to choke me. 

I needed this Tevinter to ruin my pride because I no longer deserved to have any.

“Amheotil, you do not mean that,” Dorian was speaking so gently to me. I adored him for it. And I hated him for it.

“I had to look a man in the eye and ask him to die for me. For you. For them!” I gestured to the whole of the camp. I could feel that I was most definitely drunk.

“I know,” he took a deep breath. “But I do not think...”

“Bull would do it for me,” I spat. It was the first time I welcomed the image of that enormous man tossing me around like a sack of flour. “Should I go find HIM?”

Dorian didn’t say a word. I wished he would. I wished he would fight me so that I would have a reason to scream. I ground my teeth together.

“When we fell into the chasm, into the Fade,” he finally spoke, “I thought you were done for.”

My brows drew together and I squeezed my eyes shut, grimacing. I wasn’t the only one hurting right now, and I knew that, but I was at fault for dragging the rest of them into that place and making them hurt alongside me. It only made me hate myself more to hear it.

“I’m sorry you had to go through it with me,” I lamented.

“I’m not sorry I was there with you,” he responded. “I thought I’d lost you. You sent me ahead and then didn’t follow. For just a moment I was certain you wouldn’t. I thought ‘This is it. This is where I finally lose him forever’.”

“There’s a reason that demon is called the Nightmare,” was all I could manage. I wasn’t sure why he was telling me this, it wasn’t exactly helpful.

“It was a nightmare I had been through before, thinking you had died in my stead, it was awful but it didn’t last,” he replied. “But if I know you like I think I might, you are probably wishing you could trade yourself for Stroud.”

It struck me as though it were his lightning. He was so perceptive, he had demonstrated it over and again, and I was not surprised he could guess what was in my head.

“You’re right,” I admitted to him.

“Amheotil, when the Nightmare emerged, I was stricken with the same fear of losing you I had felt when I arrived in the Fade alone. It was the Giant all over again, I thought you would run off and not even kiss my goodbye,” his expression was saddened. “My only saving grace was that Stroud was as honorable a man as you.”

“There is no honor in what I did,” I refuted his claim of my character.

“You don’t see it, Warrior that you are,” his voice was warm.

“Stroud sacrificed his life, you have sacrificed your sanity. Just look at you,” he inclined his head toward the bottle in my grasp.

If I’d been a better person, I would have heeded his words. I would have accepted his comfort.

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” was what I said instead.

He released a heavy sigh. “I know what you seek, Amatus, but I could not bear to cause you any more pain than you are already in.”

“Then leave me,” I said.

His jaw was tense for just a moment. Then he nodded, his eyes regretful, and stood, little snowflakes landing in his dark hair.

He said, “Command is a heavy burden, one you never asked for. But you are stronger than to let it break you,” before walking away.

“Wait,” I groaned. I suddenly didn’t want to be left alone with my thoughts and I was never very good at lying to him. “I didn’t mean that.”

He turned around and resumed his seat next to me.

“I am open to anything other than indulging your alcohol induced masochism,” I had not realized how much I missed his breezy sarcasm.

For the first time in a week the corner of my mouth twitched upward, “Who says it’s the alcohol?”

My voice lacked any levity, but he still chuckled a bit.

“The crippling self loathing, then?”

“That’s the one,” I affirmed.

“I’m familiar with the feeling. Makes you say all kinds of things you don’t mean,” he smiled in a reassuring kind of way. He was not judging me for my weakness right now.

“Dorian of House Pavus has insecurities does he?”

“The fact that you’d use my family name after what that Fear demon said to me not being the least among them,” he said.

I made a noise of disgust and changed the subject. “I’m more interested in what that Desire demon said to you,” I remembered his words when I’d first seen he was alive in the Fade. Gods... I WAS glad he was alive.

“I couldn’t possibly tell you THAT whole story, it is entirely inappropriate and scandalous.”

“Is that so?” I asked, the curve at the edge of my lips was growing. 

Dorian was doing what he did best; he was distracting me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are many possible alternate versions of this. Some of them are *cough* sexy. If enough people expressed wanting to see that, I might take the time to write something down. Otherwise, hope you enjoyed.


	25. Kick Them When They’re Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter was Amheotil not feeling so hot. I had to end it there because I wasn’t sure where to go. It dawned on me and this is what came out. Hope you like it, it felt pretty cathartic.
> 
> Oh right, there’s sex. Be warned. This chapter for mature audiences only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was not sure whether to post this as a side story or a chapter but seeing as it so IMMEDIATELY follows the last chapter making it a side story felt a little silly.

Dorian appeased my curiosity and told me of his previous journeys into the Fade, if only because I needed something other than my misery to hold my attention. I had not known he’d made so many trips there, nor that such debauchery was possible while dreamwalking. It made me wonder if Solas had ever found sexual pleasure with the spirits, though I didn’t think I’d ever ask him. It was difficult for me to even imagine Solas nude, when I tried there seemed to be a blank space between his legs. His mind was so wise it was hard to picture him existing at a baser level.

“I am brilliant,” Dorian suddenly proclaimed.

I rolled my eyes at him. I did not know if it was the man or the bottle that had made me feel as though I could breathe again, and I was far from feeling light hearted, but I felt better now than I had before he’d wandered into my company.

“I don’t disagree, Dorian, but try not to get too high on yourself.”

“Well, we’ve discussed that I will not cause you pain,” he began. The urge for that had faded somewhat, though I did still believe it might be worth a shot. “And I’d offer to let you take it out on me but I realize that I am not the one you are angry with. Besides, I’m far too pretty to be getting punched in the face.”

I snorted. “Dorian you know I would nev...”

“At this very moment Erimond is in chains in this camp,” his face was alight.

It washed over me like a sunrise. Feeling like new life, rejuvenation, excitement, the seething hatred in my bones latched onto his sentence and danced with it. It smoldered in me like Dawnstone in Herrit’s forge. I had sworn to Cullen I’d wait until we reached Skyhold and judge him properly, so as not to give other Nobles false misgivings about the Inquisition’s due process of law. But Dorian was right, there was no reason I couldn’t go scream in his face, and all I had wanted for days was to scream.

“You are brilliant,” my eyes glimmered with vengeance, dark and fiery.

I was already on my feet. As Dorian rose from where he sat I took his face between my palms and kissed him, growling and grinning as I clapped him on the shoulders. I might have looked a drunk madman, but Dorian just shook his head and tried to keep from laughing.

“I’ve created a monster,” he muttered, but I had already turned on my heel to march through camp.

I was settled at the head of our procession, in a fashion fit for a leader, and therefore on the opposite side of our army. It would take half an hour to get to the Vint asshole, but just the idea of facing him sobered my mind with a singular determination to do so. I was charging between tents and down pathways, Dorian following closely and apologizing on my behalf to any soldiers who had to dart out of my way.

We passed The Iron Bull, “Hey Boss!” he called out to me. I kept moving, I had somewhere to be.

“We’re going to visit Lord Livius,” I heard Dorian say behind me.

“Oh, this I’ve gotta see,” Bull’s baritone voice responded, amused.

Some other brave and curious soldiers followed along as well. Surely I was an oddity to them in every way possible. Not only a Dalish elf, but a man high above their station as well as one who’d physically walked the Fade twice in his lifetime and survived. And currently, I was inebriated with wine and rage. Who would pass up such a spectacle?

Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium had his wrists bound and was huddled inside one of the caged wagons we’d looted from the mines in Emprise du Lion. His white robes were looking rather dingy and I could see his breath in the air. When I saw his ugly face my temper boiled over.

“Open this cage,” I commanded the soldier who guarded it.

She looked very nervous. My face expressed that it was not up for debate, but something held her back. “Knight Commander Cullen said...”

“Cullen works for me,” my voice rolled like thunder from my lips. It was not often I tossed around my authority as Inquisitor, my pride was of the humble kind more often than not, but tonight I would accept nothing less than obedience.

She turned immediately to work the key into the latch. Erimond had noticed what was happening.

“You can’t let him in here,” he was pleading. Fucking coward.

“You’re mistaken,” I informed him, “I’m dragging you out of there.”

His eyes were wide. I’m sure he thought he might die. That was fun for me, being the only one who knew I had sworn he’d at least make it back to Skyhold. Let him be afraid. Let him experience anything close to the Nightmare he tried to unleash.

Bull was laughing behind me. “You’ve really got it coming to ya now, you Vint prick.”

“My master knows the Blight can be controlled!” Erimond was baying hopelessly. “It was to be his greatest tool!”

“No, Livius, you’re a tool,” Dorian mocked him.

I was in the cage, sword hand clutching his collar, ripping him out and tossing him into the snow and mud on the ground.

“You cost me my Warden Commander, you fucking cockroach!” I shouted at him. Gods it felt good to shout.

“Clarel was the Warden Commander,” he wheezed.

I drove a foot into his ribs and took him by the front of his robes to pull him up to meet my face, standing bent over him. “I didn’t say THE Warden Commander, I said MY Warden Commander,” I ground out between my teeth, snarling at him.

He was sputtering as I let him fall onto the flat of his back.

“Clarel was a fool!” I screamed. “A noble fool but a fool all the same. Stroud saw through your deception. Stroud ignored the Calling and come to us! STROUD lead us to your little hideout! STROUD SAVED US ALL!”

We had quite a crowd watching now. Good. They should know who had rescued the entire Inquisition from failure against Corypheus.

“And now he is dead,” Livius sneered from the muck.

I kicked him forcefully in the chest. He attempted to reach for my planted foot but I was far too graceful a warrior for that trick to work. I simply hopped over him and kicked him again in the spine. My chest rose and fell rapidly and the very air I breathed was Fury.

“You should wish he hadn’t,” I laughed madly. “He was a BETTER MAN THAN ME! He would’ve left you in that cage!”

I kicked again and again loosing a string of profanities. When that was no longer enough I gripped him by the throat and heaved him off the ground, shoving him up against the very bars I’d just pulled him free from, glaring into his eyes an inch away from his face.

“You would have been lucky to have Stroud be your judge,” I pulled him away from the bars just to smash him back into them, my fingers digging into his neck. “You are VERY unfortunate to be stuck with ME.”

He was gasping like a fish on dry land. I could hear Bull chuckling, and mottled gasps and cheers from our onlookers, but I never looked away from the Lord.

“I’m sorry, what was that? I can’t quite hear you!” I swung my left hand into his rib cage, the Mark’s magic actually bursting and shimmering with the blow.

“The only thing I regret is that I can’t strike your face,” I said. “If I did that, the nobles might notice your broken jaw, and I have promised for their sake that I would treat you kindly.”

I shoved him hard in the direction of the guard, who looked horrified by the display. He stumbled and fell to his knees. The second Tevinter I’d ever had in that position.

“Tell Cullen I made you do it,” I said to the soldier, “Tell him to find me if that’s a problem.”

She nodded, but did not move.

“You can put him away now,” I finished. “That was all I needed.”

Erimond was whimpering. I hoped his ribs were broken.

I approached Dorian and Bull who stood together on the sidelines.

“All right! That’s enough everyone! Move it along!” Bull boomed at the soldiers, who began to disperse.

“Feel better?” Dorian asked an eyebrow raised high.

“Much,” I shook my hands out. “How did you know I wouldn’t kill him?”

“I didn’t!” laughed Dorian, then he smirked suggestively at me and added, “But I have seen the extent of your self control, so the odds were in your favor.”

“Sometimes what you need is just to hit something,” Bull clapped me on the back. “Good show, Boss.”

“Thanks Bull,” I actually smiled at him.

I actually smiled.

Dorian you really were fucking brilliant.

I kissed him for the second time that night. Better than the first. Tongue prying to meet his and hands gripping the belts of his Battle Robes, pulling our bodies together. I didn’t care about any sideways glances from any lingering peons of my army. This man was a God, and for whatever reason he’d chosen me. The way I saw it, all anyone should have to talk about was how jealous they were.

“Woah! Get a tent you two!” Bull guffawed.

I just pulled away from Dorian and looked at him without releasing the mage’s clothes. “I think we might have to,” I replied breathlessly.

“Do I get a say in this?” my most darling, sarcastic ass of a man quipped.

I released him and smoothed his robes back into place.

“All I’m saying,” I offered, “is that I am going back to my tent and that you may join me if you wish it.”

“I’m going to tell the guys about ALL of this,” Bull chortled as he started heading in our intended direction.

We walked with him back the way we’d come, though at a less rushed pace. When he split from us to return to where Sera, Krem, and the Chargers were surely camped he tossed a “Goodnight LoveNugs,” over his shoulder, cackling.

It had indeed become a very good night.

“So,” I turned to Dorian while we were stopped, “are you going to come with me?”

He smirked salaciously and replied, “By the look on your face and the way you kissed me back there I think I might.”

I had not meant it like that but his flirtation only spurred me on. I was practically purring as I took his hand and lead him hastily back through the camp to my tent. This being an established Inquisition camp I was afforded rather luxurious appointments, for a dwelling made of cloth. There was a bed with a frame, modest, but more apt for us than a woolen sack on the ground, and a wooden table and two chairs in the corner, with enough space between the furnishings to not feel too cramped. An area rug covered the ground underneath it all, keeping the abode dry, and a small brazier smoldered, keeping it warm.

We were both frantically ripping at buckles before we even stepped inside. Barefoot and only half dressed we stood in the center of the tent groping and kissing each other. When he bent as though to go to his knees I held him up by the elbows.

“No,” I breathed heavily, his hand was on the bulge at my groin.

“No?” he questioned.

“Not tonight,” I was moaning. “You do not belong on your knees tonight.”

He belonged on a throne. He squeezed my crotch and lapped at my ear, moaning. A throne made of gold, I thought.

I tugged him with me as I moved backwards towards the stuffed mattress. I hit the edge and fell back, him on top of me. He wasted no time moving southward on my body until his head was between my legs. He removed my breeches and my cock sprang out, eager for him.

His lips encircled it and he bobbed up and down, making me squirm in pleasure. He’d told me earlier that he learned some of his tricks in the Fade. No wonder I’d never known anything like him before, he gave oral pleasure with demonic knowledge. Tonight I knew my tent was a good enough distance away from the rest and I was not worried about keeping my voice down. I panted and moaned and cried my approval for his talents.

He let me rest for just a moment as he asked, “Are you still open to the idea of... receiving me elsewhere?” He wiggled his fingers at me to denote he did not mean his penis.

“Honestly, Dorian,” there were spots in my vision, “I might be on the verge of letting you do anything you want to me.”

He gave me a mischievous grin. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said before lowering his face over my dick once more.

His hand moved underneath me and as he pushed a finger in my back arched into it. It had been a long, long time since I’d felt that sensation. Gods, I’d forgotten just how good it was. I closed my eyes and petted his hair as he pleasured me, fingering the soft, curved tops of his ears. Cute little things. 

Suddenly I felt the most intense, blinding rapture as he channeled lightning through just that finger into my prostate. 

“Auughhh!” the orgasm was instantaneous and explosive, leaving me trembling in spasm after spasm of satisfaction. He swallowed every drop of it, licking and lapping until I had to beg him to stop before I couldn’t breathe.

When, after a few moments, I felt I could move again I found his mouth with my own. I could not stop. I had to have more of him.

“Lie down,” I commanded, pushing him back into the mattress himself.

I had still kept one thing hidden from him and he groaned as I revealed my secret, wrapping my Marked hand around the length of him.

“Amheotil,” he groaned. “Is that what your hand feels like day in and day out?”

“It varies,” I told him. “Sometimes I can’t feel it at all, sometimes it’s downright painful. But on my dick it always feels... I dunno... like THIS.”

I squeezed and pulled at him, his voice rose a pitch. Of course I’d tried this on myself. It was a bit strange, but wholly unique and extremely powerful. His being a mage, I wondered if the magic felt different to him. The expression on his face suggested he was in bliss.

When I took him in my mouth in tandem with the stroking of my glowing palm he could not longer hold it in. He tasted of salt and smelled of Sandalwood and I wished to stay here, in this moment, for the rest of my life. He was so perfect.

I collapsed next to him, breathing hard, and laughing softly. A week of bottled rage and angst had found their release this night. I curled myself around him and he pulled the blankets up to cover us both. I planted gentle kisses on the back of his neck and shoulders.

“Ma Vhenan,” I whispered, nuzzling his flawless skin. No one had ever, ever been my vhenan before. I only felt comfortable saying it because he did not know what it meant.

And for the first time in more days than I wanted to count, I slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone’s got magic hands *CACKLES*


	26. Executions & Embraces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Super short, covers almost nothing and yet quite a lot. Probably full of typos until I take the time to really edit it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really really gotta get some things done today but here’s a little morsel of story to hold you over until I make time for the next few scenes. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover post Adamant. Love y’all.

Dorian had helped enormously the night before we’d arrived at the castle. He had been the only person who could have reached me through that darkness. The only person who’d understood that I was simply a sullen bastard who could not have been cheered with any conventional methods. He’d comprehended my need for an outlet and he’d found two of them that worked.

The story ran rampant through the entire army. Cullen had scowled at me in the morning, but I didn’t expect that pretty Fereldan noble to find my lack of discipline relatable. I did not care. My fury had been satisfied, and when I strolled through the ranks in the morning and received cheers from men and women who’d lost friends at Adamant, I did not feel as though what I had done was wrong. Nobles has their interpretation of justice, we, the little people, had quite another.

And when I heard a group chatting around breakfast, saying ‘Did you know Stroud was the one who found Adamant fortress?’ I could have wept with joy. Everyone already knew he did not escape the Fade. Everyone already knew he died so that I could live. And now they all knew that his heroism had begun long before that ever happened. THAT was what I had needed most.

We’d been back in the castle for a short while now. Erimond had spent exactly one night in a cell. It would have been less but I’d decided to wait until every soldier who’d had to fight against his misdeeds was through the gates of Skyhold. I owed them that. I was not the only person in the Inquisition who had cause to call for justice. I sat upon my throne with fervor.

Josephine went through the motions of listing his crimes, but I just sat, fingers clutching the arms of my great, carved chair, and waited for my turn to speak. He must have a chance to defend himself if only for posterity’s sake.

“Tell me why this shouldn’t be quick,” I said to the man sniveling at my feet. He truly was a cunt. Still loyal to Corypheus, ha, where was his ‘God’ now?

“I recognize none of this proceeding,” how could he still be condescending? “You have no authority to judge me.”

“On the contrary,” Josephine could not hold her tongue, she too was scowling, “many officials have agreed to defer to the Inquisitor on this matter.”

“Because they fear,” he sneered. “Not just Corypheus, but Tevinter, rightful ruler of every piece of ground you’ve trod in your pathetic life.”

My lip curled at his words. As much as I adored my Dorian, the name ‘Tevinter’ still repulsed me. I still remembered Hawke recounting the tale of an escaped slave named Fenris, who’d had lyrium carved into his body like a sick Vallaslin. That had happened in Tevinter. Tevinter was sickening.

“I served a living God! Bring down your blades and free me from the physical, Glory awaits me,” Erimond was still blathering, I don’t know if he was trying to convince me or himself. 

For a moment, just a short fleeting spark of thought, it seemed a better idea to throw him back into the deepest, darkest hole beneath Skyhold and let him freeze to death, forgotten. It would have been a slow and cruel fate, no more than he deserved, but I couldn’t relinquish the need to end him myself. If anyone asked, I would simply tell them that the Inquisition was merciful, that we offered a swift death to Nobles. They’d eat that up.

“Lord Erimond, any protection you thought you had has apparently been withdrawn,” I tried to keep my smile off my face. “You will die. By MY hand.”

“Petty actions,” he put on a false bravado, but I could see his eyes glistening. “Truth lies in the next world.”

By the time he was on the executioner’s block he was fighting back tears. Shaking his head, sniffling, and only daring to look up at me once, eyes wide and afraid. Spineless cowardly worm. Stroud had charged head on to meet his fate. This pathetic cretin was pissing himself. The courtyard was filled with those he’d wronged and the nobles to whom he’d never made a difference. Let this be a cautionary tale to the latter, I thought.

I did not carry Evanura. His blood was not worthy of the reverence of that blade. He was not honorable enough to touch the sword that had been held by the likes of Lindiranae, Ser Brandis, the God June himself. He would die by a sword that was as he was, entirely unremarkable.

I thought I would appear a tyrant if I openly cackled while I severed his head, so I wore my old default seriousness as I gripped the weapon with two hands. My precision and strength were a favor to him, a single blow sliced clean through his neck. There were cheers. Justice was done. Corypheus, his master, was still at large, and must be found, but the world was a better place.

Dorian had chosen not to be present at the execution. Knowing what the day held in store, he’d expressed his intentions and apologized that morning as though I’d have been angry with him. He’d gotten his satisfaction in camp. He’d exacted his own need for punishment by sicking me on Erimond then. I imagined it would have been hard for him to see me act as executioner off the battlefield. He’d watched me kill many and more, but not like this. Execution was callous by its very nature, I did not mourn nor begrudge him his absence.

The deed now done, my first thought was for Sera, who I’d not seen for days. Having been home a night, I was sure she’d decompressed enough to discuss our ordeal. I’d sworn to myself in the Fade that she could do anything she liked if she survived to see Skyhold again, and I needed to tell her as much. I feared she’d leave us, go back to helping people in her own way. There was plenty of good work she could do without our banners behind her.

But if that were to be the case, I would never let her go without saying goodbye. She was Lethallin to me. I knew she didn’t care, and so I’d never told her my feelings, but her pointed ears and her common manners (or lack thereof) had always, always put me at ease.

I turned into the Herald’s Rest and climbed the wooden stairs. She was standing by the window and I rapped on the doorframe softly to announce my presence.

“Sera, about what happened at Adamant, and in the Fade...” I started.

She took a mad swing at my face, my instincts kicked in and I avoided the blow.

“What the..?” automatically sprang from my lips as I dodged her, and then I snorted a bit, “What was that for?”

“Shut up and listen, yeah?” she grimaced. “NEVER again, you hear me?”

Sorrow racked my face. I’d tried to leave her behind but she’d insisted on marching with us. But when she’d insisted she couldn’t have known we’d fall into another dimension of existence. My poor Sera. It felt unlikely I’d ever forgive myself.

“Everyone is pretending it made sense, demons and visions and all of it,” she complained. Once again, I thought she was the only sane person in the Inquisition, because of course she was right, it didn’t make any sense. “The Fade isn’t real! And I saw nothing. Nothing. They were like... little empty THINGS. It was like nothing in the dark. No point.”

My heart ripped in half. I remembered her crying out that she didn’t see spiders. I remembered that unsettling graveyard of tombs marked for us. Sera’s had been engraved with her deepest fear: The Nothing. What she feared was oblivion. She often spoke of how the Fade and the Maker and the Gods weren’t real, but I’d never expected it was fear that made her focus on it. And I couldn’t protect her from that.

Still, she was offering me a little smile. “Stupid, right?” she said. “That shouldn’t be scary like... like it was. I’d have taken spiders. Like you! You’re scared of spiders. All of them? Even little ones?”

The way she was laughing at the idea, preferring to move on than talk anymore of the Nothing, reminded me why I loved her. No one out on a brave face like my Sera. I humored her with a lie.

“Yep, the little ones most of all,” I smiled at her with my eyes. It was really me begging forgiveness.

She snickered, “Yeah, the little ones are everywhere, probably at least one in here right now.” I pretended to shudder at the thought.

She took a deep breath, “It’s stupid to think about anyway. Everybody going on about imaginary stuff when REAL people died, probably. Stroud, yeah? Lost a serious mustache there. And in trade, a bunch of busted down Wardens, and they’re always weird.”

Her brow was furrowed. She had, by no means, been close to Stroud. But he had died in order for her to stand here and pick on his facial hair, and I do not think that was lost on her.

“Usually bad stuff happens first so you’re glad when the hero shows up, but Wardens are the wrong way around. They’re the good thing that means a bad thing is about to happen, like in Denerim, when the Blight ended,” she was working through her thoughts out loud, as she often did.

“A lot happened in Denerim,” I said, I didn’t know the full story, but I’d heard scattered tales. “What did YOU see?”

“People talked a lot about this one Warden, there was a big fight and they died or I don’t know, maybe they didn’t.”

“The Hero of Fereldan?” I at least knew THAT story. I bit back laughter. “You forget the Hero of Fereldan?”

“That was ages ago! Ten years,” she defended herself. I couldn’t argue, I thought of her as a little sister, ten years was a long time to someone so young. “I was playing with small painted boxes and burying stuff I stole. I remember more people cringing about magic than Blight. Wardens were an excuse for your stuff to go missing. Blackwall’s nice though, different from the Adamant ones. Need more like him.”

I didn’t disagree. Blackwall was a fine man, he believed in what the Wardens stood for. I’d actually grown a little suspicious of HOW different he was, but he chalked that up to being a recruiter, being separated from the rest. As far as excuses went, it was acceptable. I’d decided not to pry, either way, he was a capable warrior and he aspired to be honorable. I was still unsure whether I’d trust him with the title of Warden Commander, though.

“Sera, if you, you know... if you don’t want to stay. Or if you want to stay but you don’t want to fight... that’s allowed,” I sighed, I was not good at the emotional support bit.

“Oh don’t feel sorry for me, ya pissbag,” she responded as only she would. “Of course I’m gonna fight, it’s only that next time you want to go messing ‘round with that freakish hand of yours you do it when I’m not there. Yeah?”

She wasn’t leaving. She had never intended to.

“I’m going to hug you,” I announced, stepping toward her.

“What!?” she exclaimed.

I was already hugging her.

“You’re being weird!” she said snickering.

“I know,” I said, squeezing her. “I’m just sorry it happened, is all. And I’m glad you’re still here.”

She relented to my embrace and returned it, pressing her head into my chest. Sweet Da’len.

“It’s all okay, innit? Didn’t know you were such a big baby.”

I released her, laughing.

“Well now you know,” I said, inclining my head to her. “And that was all I came to tell you.”

She smirked at me. “Well don’t expect me to keep a secret or anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t usually post things so quickly after completing them. This will likely undergo an edit at some point so I’m sorry if it’s not up to par for anyone.


	27. Bull, Cass, Dorian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More post-Adamant stuff with a few cute sprinkles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well my two week build in Puerto Rico has concluded and with a few hours alone in a hotel room before my next flight, I managed to finish up a chapter I started a while ago.
> 
> I’m sorry for the hiatus, but HEY I’M BACK.
> 
> Thank you all for being patient with me as my life got back to being life again. Love y’all.

As I stepped out of the tavern, the crowd that had gathered for Erimond’s execution had dispersed and people were back to going about their days. I heard a familiar voice drifting over from behind the Herald’s Rest.

“Again,” the Iron Bull was shouting.

Thwack.

“Again!”

Thwack.

I turned the corner to see Cassandra swinging a thick wooden training staff into Bull’s gut. I wondered briefly if this was a typical drill in their routine, I’d not been to train with either of them in quite some time, I was sure I wouldn’t know if it was.

“Grr, COME ON, this is why the Qun doesn’t like women fighting,” he growled at her. That answered my question about how often they did this... “I should’ve asked Cullen!”

Oof. Bull was asking for it with that one. I’d have bet on Cassandra over Cullen in a fight any day. She drew the staff back and swung mightily at him again, upwards, into his face this time.

I snickered as Bull hit the ground, groaning in pain. “Good one,” he wheezed, feeling his nose for a break.

Cassandra turned to walk away and, noticing me, handed me the staff and said, “Perhaps you can take over.”

I looked at Bull quizzically as he got to his feet.

“Qunari training exercise to master your fear,” he explained. “The Nightmare at Adamant? Weird shit.”

I smirked. I understood. Warrior training as boys had included a lot of hitting one another to see who could last longer against the pain or who could hit harder. It did lessen the fear of getting hit at all. This seemed no different.

He balled his fists up and opened himself for my attack. I swung my weapon into his abdomen with a fair amount of force.

“Ugh,” came his breath with the hit, “There we go! Ohhhh yeah.”

I pulled back for another swing.

“Damn demon! Who’s stuck in the Fade, huh?” he yelled as I followed through into his stomach.

I was having quite a good time. “You fought in that siege!” I encouraged him because I honestly thought a man like The Iron Bull should fear nothing. “Every demon at Adamant wanted to tear you in half.”

“Piece of Fade piece of crap!” he growled back at me as I drove the wooden stick forcefully at him once more.

“And who killed you?” he roared as I hit him with all my might, “That’s right! Iron Fucking Bull!”

He snarled and shook out his hands. He seemed better now. Worked it all out of his system. I was just amused, I think I liked this Qunari ritual.

“Thanks Boss, I needed that.”

I smirked, “No problem, Bull.”

“So,” he started now that he’d gotten in his training. “You and Dorian, huh?”

I chuckled. Gods, I’d been a mess the last night we’d been in camp, I only vaguely remembered shoving my tongue down Dorian’s throat in front of the Bull, but I knew it had happened.

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly, knowing he’d at one time, if not still, harbored lust for the mage.

“For what?” he asked. “Because I’d fuck him? Who wouldn’t?”

I chortled, happy he was not angry and finding hilarity in the truth of his words. Of course he’d heard the rumors about us but I’d given him quite the public confirmation that they were true.

“And honestly Boss, I don’t blame him for going after YOU either,” he wiggled his brow at me.

His innuendos towards me never failed to simultaneously flatter and embarrass me. I turned my face toward the ground and pinched the bridge of my nose, smiling broadly.

“Thanks,” I coughed out.

“Really I’m only upset that I can’t watch,” he shrugged, smirking. He was obviously entertained by the flush in my cheeks and ears. “We all know who’s on top there, and I do love to see a Vint put in his place.”

I shook with awkward laughter, the guffaws snorting out my nose as I tried to keep them down. The image of it was absurd and yet somehow seemed entirely possible. Dare I have said appropriate, even?

“Please make sure I’m there if you ever say that to HIM,” I thought I would have literally paid to see the look on his face.

Bull took a more serious tone. “I remember you back in Haven, Boss, scowling everywhere you went. I can’t say if it’s the sex or the man, but I think it’s good for you.”

I got myself back under control, still wearing a half cocked smirk, and agreed with him. Dorian had been good for me. Irritating and quarrelsome and distracting, certainly, but good for me all the same. I had called him Vhenan in my drunken, violence fueled euphoria. I sighed now as I thought that the asshole really did have my heart.

“Cass seemed upset,” Bull changed the subject. “You should probably go talk to her.”

I nodded. “I’ll see you around Bull,” I clapped him on his massive arm and headed toward the armory to find Cassandra. I had not had a chance to speak to her in any capacity beyond the advisory since my return, and I dearly missed my friend.

“You know where I’ll be,” he grinned and walked off to the Herald’s Rest.

She was at a table on the upper deck of the armory. Keen warrior that she was, she did not even need to look up from her parchment to know somebody was there and to know it was me.

“Writing does not come naturally to me, as I’m certain you can imagine,” she said. I COULD imagine, I was no poet. The two of us were of swords and shields, not quills and quotations.

“Trying to outdo Varric’s next literary masterpiece?” I quipped.

“Heh,” she chuckled. “I haven’t his talent for blather, as if written by a dim witted child.”

I did wonder what she was working on. Her things were spread all over the table, she’d certainly been at this before she’d found Bull today. She sighed heavily and explained as if sensing the question rising in me.

“Historians will one day ask what happened at Adamant Fortress and in the Fade,” she said. “I wasn’t there, but others were. Their accounts must be recorded.”

Gods, the Seeker of Truth. Always and forever, Cassandra would be a dutiful woman. A noble woman. I’D certainly not thought of recording our ordeal, but now that she suggested it I thought it a worthy goal. I could only hope she’d get it right, do it justice, and not romanticize the idea of all that had happened. There was nothing there to glorify.

“Fair enough,” was all I said. “Just... be careful what you write.”

“Do not be concerned,” she assured me. “I am a poor writer but not unaware of the weight my words might carry.”

She finally looked up at me, expression belying burden. The Iron Bull had been right, something more was troubling her. She stood and walked toward the edge of the little balcony, leaning on the railing. I leaned next to her so that our faces could be level. I nudged her elbow and cocked an eyebrow at her to suggest she could say what was on her mind.

“I still do not know what to write of the spirit of the Divine,” it did not surprise me that THAT was what had been nagging her. Her faith always seemed indisputable, but the spirit we’d seen in the Fade was challenging for anyone to make sense of. “The Chantry teaches us that the souls of the dead pass through the Fade, so it COULD have been her, yet even so....”

I couldn’t help but remember the Golden Spirit. Memory, soul, impersonator. Did it make a difference? She’d been our savior, just as her predecessor, the real Justinia, had saved me in my first journey to the Fade, that was all that mattered to me. 

“Perhaps it doesn’t matter what she was?” I offered.

“It matters to me, to what I must write.” Cassandra insisted. “I wish I’d seen her, seen... IT. I feel so inadequate trying to interpret.”

“I don’t know the truth any more than you do,” I was sorry I did not have more than that to offer. I could have lied and told her it was the soul of the Divine to comfort her, but I was not one to do that sort of thing.

She gave a slight nod, Cassandra of all people knew I was not a philosopher, nor a man of Andrastian faith. Still she lamented.

“Unfortunately unanswered questions make for poor reading.”

She paused a moment, looking down into the armory where one of the smiths was working a sword.

“When they told me you were physically in the Fade, I was terrified for you,” she said finally. I felt awful I’d done that to her. She was too much like me, I had been in peril and she had not been there to protect me. I knew how terrible that must have felt. Praise the Gods she had not been there, though, she would have taken Stroud’s place in a heartbeat and I could never have recovered from that loss.

“The last time such a thing happened we created Darkspawn, we created Corypheus. The world needs to know the truth this time, no more legends lost to the ages,” she said as she went back to her seat and her papers. I knew that she would not be comforted by anything but doing what she felt she must.

“It’s admirable, what you’re doing,” was all I said. “Come see me if you’d like someone to read it over. For accuracy, of course, I’m no writer either.”

She smiled up at me from her chair and gave me a nod of acknowledgement. I left her to her task. She would soothe herself, of that I was sure.

From the armory I made my way back to the castle. Cullen had soldiers out searching for Corypheus, Leliana had her agents doing the same, Josephine, as always, had her people with ears to the ground for any leads. I felt unsure of what I should be doing, Erimond was dead, it had been the only thing I’d still been eager to get done.

When I entered the Hall I noticed Varric’s absence from his usual post by the hearth. He must have been off somewhere with Hawke. No matter how many times I’d hated myself for asking Stroud to stay behind, I could never have asked Varric’s old friend to do it. I could never have looked the dwarf in the eye when I broke that news. I was glad they had both lived to see one another again. I’d speak to him later, let them catch up for now.

I turned towards Solas’ study to find the elf already staring up at me from his desk.

“Aneth ara,” I said.

“Aneth ara,” he returned to me, but said nothing else.

I looked at him quizzically. Perhaps he was only staring because he’d heard the door open? Perhaps he was displeased by my judgement of Erimond or my entry into the Fade? Whatever it was, he had nothing to say about it. So I just offered him a small bow of my head and proceeded up the spiral steps towards Dorian’s little nook where he was scowling at the bookcase.

“You have remarkably little here on early Tevinter history,” he said. “All these gifts to the Inquisition and the best they can do is the Malefica Imperio, trite propaganda.”

I could already recognize his scathing tone, something was bothering him.

“But if you want twenty volumes on whether Divine Galitaia took a shit on Sunday,” he continued, “this is evidently the place to find it.”

I snorted at that. Dorian has never complained about our selection of literature before, but it was very like him to complain, in fact, I was surprised I had not heard this one earlier.

“That’s the Dorian I know,” I smiled, “critiquing every book in my library.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you could find some rebellious heretic archivist to join the cause!” he flared.

Well all right, something was truly bothering him.

“Are there rebellious archivists?” I asked. If he wanted one, I could try to find him one, though I rather thought I was looking at one already. “Other than you, that is.”

“If Corypheus ever starts burning master works of literature, I’m sure a few will pop up,” he leered at me. Then he brought a finger to his chin and looked pensively back at the shelves, seeming to talk more to himself than to me, “Did I see something by Genitivi here? I could’ve sworn...”

“What is this about, Dorian?” I finally inquired of him. I knew him, and I knew his sarcasm and disdain usually preceded a valid reason for him to upset.

He sighed heavily. “The Fade is an ordeal under normal circumstances. To be the only real thing there,” he shook his head, “beyond description. That any of us made it out alive is difficult to believe. That YOU made it out... a miracle. You do realize, this fear hasn’t been performed for more than a thousand years?”

“Corypheus and his contemporaries entered the Fade and began the Blights. In comparison...” Dorian said.

I could have royally fucked the entire world when I opened that Rift to save us when we fell. I closed my eyes for a moment and remembered how I’d thought the scent of his Sandalwood oil was the only thing that kept me sane in that dreadful realm.

“At least you were at my side,” I said finally. I was still upset that I’d dragged everyone through it, but they were here for me to be sorry for, and had we all been broken on impact with the ground... well... I had to learn to be grateful for the small victories.

He chuckled, “No offense, but I almost rather I hadn’t been.”

I gave him half a smile. I could agree with that, but still I teased him.

“No sense of adventure?”

“I haven’t your talent for survival, not everyone is as discerning as I,” he quipped in return. And then what was really bothering him came out, “If you can walk in the Fade, others will try. Who knows what secrets Corypheus has revealed? Not all of them will be as lucky as you. What they could unleash....”

Fenedhis. He was right. Of course I’d been concerned with what Cassandra was writing because I didn’t want the idea romanticized but Dorian had thought it through further. It had not occurred to me that anyone would WANT to follow in my footsteps. I hadn’t even wanted to do it, the Mark had simply reacted to my adrenaline and prevented our immediate demise. He must have recognized the expression on my face as I digested his words.

“My advice,” he offered, to which I inclined my gaze. As a mage and a dreamwalker, I truly needed his counsel. “Keep this quiet. Let them speculate. Too many will see this as a challenge.”

“That’s a good idea,” I would have to see what Cass wrote before she let anybody else read it.

“There are too many idiots in the world who think if they just use enough Blood Magic their problems will vanish. It’s exactly the sort of thing I want to stop back home. This... this I DON’T need.”

He had his mind back on Tevinter, then. All the sacrifice we’d seen resonated a little too closely to him, perhaps. He turned back towards the shelves.

“What I do need is a copy of the Liberalum,” he squinted at the spines of the books on the shelves. “I’ll wager I could find Corypheus’ real name. If I can prove he was a grasping ankle-biter with no family to speak of... the luster would come right off.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him. He was brewing a little plan, was he? It was a good one, I supposed. These nobles, it seemed Tevinters especially, were obsessed with lineage. Leave it to Dorian to recognize that and think of a way to use it to our advantage. Gods, I adored him.

“Wish me luck,” he smirked at me.

“I’ll do better than that,” I said. “The Liberatum, you said?”

“Liberalum,” he corrected me.

“I’ll call the council to the War Table. We’ll find you a copy.”

“It is good to be Inquisitor,” his eyes bore into me lustfully. 

It seemed nothing to me to ask Leliana to find a book, but it was easy for me to forget just how powerful I had to be to do that on a lover’s whim. That gaze set my blood on fire. If he hadn’t given me something important to do I’d have dragged him back to my quarters there and then.

“Come see me tonight?” I asked before I turned to leave.

“No,” he responded. “Remember what I said about ‘mutual domesticity’? I won’t be in your quarters every night.”

“YOUR quarters, then?” I suggested. “Come on, Dorian, I know you haven’t been sleeping in that chair all this time.”

He chuckled and gave me another once over with his eyes. He huffed and relented, “Very well, meet me back here tonight.”


	28. Dorian’s Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of dialogue!! (And some sex)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorian does not sleep in that chair. He’d have a really bad back.

Dorian lead me to his chambers without a word. ‘Little more than a dungeon’ he’d called it. He took me towards the kitchens but turned down a narrow flight of stairs I’d neither taken nor ever even noticed before. Claustrophobic hallways lead through a well intact, though seemingly deserted part of the keep. We turned this way and that until finally he pushed open a creaky wooden door and I... well... I was speechless.

It was a small room, but he’d made it into something very special. There was no berth of any kind, he’d just arranged six wooden crates of the same size into a platform of sorts and thrown a few stuffed mattresses over them. Then he’d added layers of blankets and pillows of all shapes, sizes, and colors. It amounted to a bed that was larger than my own. 

Two rugs were offset on the floor to cover every possible inch of stone, and the walls were a tapestry of decorations. One had a large landscape painting he must’ve found lying around, it was aged but still a lovely scene, the ocean in fact, silks draped around it like curtains. I wondered how recently it had been placed there? 

He had a personal collection of books on a shelf against another wall, alphabetized. I thought that when I had the time I might find out which pieces of literature Dorian deemed important enough to stash away for himself. Or had they come with him from Tevinter? There were other trinkets and little decorative things on the shelf as well, a golden ring, his Birthright, a human skull inlaid with gemstones, to name a few.

The whole place was oddly reminiscent of a Dalish Aravel, only lacking the windows. I gave Dorian a sly smile, part of me couldn’t believe he’d been keeping this a secret. If he was so concerned with leaving my quarters in front of the entire Hall, why wouldn’t he have just brought me here?

He looked a touch sheepish, “It’s not much, of course. When we arrived I found this to be an empty storeroom, no harm in claiming it for myself I thought.”

The entire room smelled of Sandalwood, of HIM. Half of me wanted to ask if he’d trade chambers with me. He had said he liked my appointments.

“It’s not my manse in Tevinter,” he quipped, “but it does rather nicely.”

I winced at that. Of course I knew he missed certain things about his homeland but it always hurt me when he expressed that. I hated Tevinter, I didn’t want him to miss it. I much preferred it when he shared in my disdain.

“It’s a marvel, Dorian, really,” I said, trying to ignore the feeling. “Feels... homey.”

It did to me, anyway. Apparently not to him.

“It is home,” he responded. “I’m pleased that you like it.”

“Do YOU like it?” I couldn’t relinquish the Tevinter comment. I’d just beheaded a Tevinter that very morning. “I mean... I can get you something else, if you want. I am the Inquisitor, just tell me if...”

He looked perplexed.

I cleared my throat, feeling awkward, “I just mean if it’s not... you know... up to your standards...”

The look on his face suggested he was wracking his mind for why I would say such a thing. It wasn’t long before he landed on his answer.

“Amheotil,” he shook his head, “I quite enjoy my little dungeon. I like that I turned nothing into something and I didn’t even use magic to do it... well... not MUCH magic... that’s beside the point, I would not trade my place here for anywhere else. Least of all Tevinter. The room itself may be more constrictive but the Inquisition is not. I am here out of love for my homeland. I am here to fight the things I do not like about it. And YOU’RE here.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled, relieved he felt that way and grateful that he’d said it. 

“For... simply being allowed to bask in my presence?” he feigned ignorance.

I remembered long ago when his sarcasm would have made me want to snap his neck, now I just chortled. “That too.”

“That TOO,” he repeated. “Well now I must know your original intent.”

“Thank you for saying you’re happy here,” I said, but as I said it I thought of another thing I should be thanking him for. “And... thank you for not taking advantage of me when I was incapable of thinking clearly the other night.”

I had realized the morning after, when I’d awoken beside him in my tent, how foolishly I’d behaved and how much I would have hated myself had he not had the foresight to deny me. It would have been a lifetime of pride tossed away in the throes of grief. 

He cleared his throat. “Given how violently intoxicated you were at the time, I thought it rather inappropriate and I am surprised you remember it at all. That being said, it did not lack in a certain appealing imagery.”

Unfortunately that statement conjured some rather unappealing imagery for me, as focused as I was on his... Tevinterness in the present moment.

“However, thanking me for that so specifically does then beg the question; would it truly have been so awful if I’d done it?” he did not understand the depth of it because he had never asked me to explain. He knew I had a hard time with submission, he knew his ‘round ears did not help matters’ as he’d put it. He did not know I’d NEVER allowed it to happen.

“Oh no,” he said, taking note of my pensive expression. “What’s this, what’re you doing with your face?”

“Huh?” he pulled me from my thoughts.

“Please, Amatus we have JUST managed to cheer you. You are doing that whole... serious look that you do,” he gestured toward me. “Talk to me, tell me what is on your mind.”

I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Tevinter,” I admitted reluctantly, always awful at lying to him. The only time I’d managed to was for his benefit, to get him his amulet back. His Tevinter Birthright amulet.

His eyes grew sad. “Of course,” he sighed. He moved to sit on the edge of his bed, patting the mattress, inviting me to join him.

“I know you’re nothing like the rest of them Dorian,” I prefaced as I accepted his invitation and sat beside him. It was true, I KNEW he wasn’t a representation of his people, it was just.... that was the problem.

“But the rest of them...” I let out an exasperated ‘ugh’ and flopped backwards onto his bed, palming my forehead.

“You once spoke of the greatness of Tevinter. Steeped in history, not a single modern building at the center of the Imperium. But what is left of MY people?” the grief threatened to break my voice as I said it. “Tevinter was built on the bloody backs of Elvhen civilization and what do we have left?

“Crumbling ruins and scattered fragments of our language? Evanura? It has been centuries and still we live in chains or derelict alienages.” 

It was a fact I lived with every day. Even when I could force it down, forgotten for a while, it still smoldered underneath everything else. I ground my teeth for a moment. The futility of it was the most frustrating part. The past could not be rewritten, but going forward begged for change.

“What do I do about that?!” I finally asked throwing my hands in the air. “I wrote to Celene to petition for improvement on their behalf but all resources we have must be directed towards this war with Corypheus. Corypheus, who is a fucking TEVINTER.”

It always circled back around to fucking Tevinter. It was as though our foe mocked me personally. Magisters and elves locked in battle once again, and all after they’d won the first time around. And every round since then, come to think of it. 

“I feel... helpless,” I shook my head. “I have all the power in the world and yet I can change nothing.”

Dorian was leaning forward onto his knees, I could not see his face. I often kept it to myself how much it really bothered me, sometimes just to spare his feelings, sometimes because I was terrible at discussing my own. I was certain it hurt him, and I hated that, but it was not as though I hadn’t said as much when we’d first met. He’d agreed with me time and again but that simply didn’t... fix... anything. I sat back up when he started speaking.

“Do not say that,” he shook his head, brows drawn in. “You have changed so much, you have changed me, you have changed the minds and opinions of thousands who have now followed you into battle. I will not let you think these are trifles.

“When you first asked me about the enslavement of your people I had not thought much of it, I am ashamed to say. It was no worse than the alienages, that’s the way it had always been justified to me. And I had agreed. But the more time I’ve spent with you, the more time I’ve spent traveling, SEEING free elves, the more I realized that none of it is right. Slavery OR poverty. My opinion NOW is entirely due to your presence in my life.”

I hung my head and clasped my hands around the back of my neck. He wasn’t wrong. He rarely was. Templars who’d spent their days before the Breach spitting on my people in Fereldan now took orders from a Dalish without question. A circle mage like Vivienne now respected an apostate elf like Fiona as her equal. It still wasn’t enough. Not for me. Not while the vast majority of elves were still being persecuted. Fenedhis, even the Dalish were only recently being looked upon as a valid society to negotiate and trade with, and many still called us “Savage” as they did so.

“What does this have to do with the other night?” Dorian asked.

I gave him a sideways glance and dropped my hands into my lap. The last time he’d made me admit to my hang ups he’d had my dick in his hand. And when this had come up before we’d left for Adamant, he’d not asked for my reasoning. Usually, if I ever bothered to reveal my secret to a human, I did not care for their feelings in the matter.

“I have... never... let a human take me... like that,” I explained. “It is not a dislike of the position, or even a need for control that keeps me from doing so. It is just a REFUSAL to let it happen.

“It’s something I can have for myself, to feel like they have not taken... EVERYTHING from me. It is very...” I sighed, “Dalish... of me, I suppose.”

Understanding was already drawn on his face. It resembled sorrow. I stood and began to pace, scratching at my hair. I’d lost count of the times Dorian had already had to watch me lose my mind in front of him. There was no one else I could open up to so easily and yet no one less likely to have ever made me feel that way.

“And I can’t believe... I mean... I can believe I offered it to you... because you’re... YOU,” I gestured to him as I spoke. “But a TEVINTER. A fucking Tevinter! As a child I had nightmares about Tevinter. Erimond was a Tevinter. Corypheus, Alexius, Venatori. I’m downright surrounded. Why... WHY do you have to be a Tevinter?”

I was mostly talking to myself at that point. I was plagued by this thought more often than I wanted to admit and now I’d opened the gates and given it free reign to express itself.

“If I thought you were ANYTHING like the rest, Dorian, my affection for you would not exist at all. But I don’t know how I’m supposed to reconcile that I nearly sacrificed my sense of self to...”

He had risen from his makeshift bed and now caught the hands I was flailing madly as I vented. I stopped my pacing mid sentence to meet his eye. His expression was one of regret.

“My love,” he addressed me. In plain speech he called me ‘love’ and it brought such joy and such pain that I had to close my eyes and swallow a lump in my throat, I was already far too emotional. “I cannot imagine the strife in your heart. And I will not pretend I know how to heal it. The sex is not important to me. I assumed you would never be interested in THAT simply because of who you are as a man. I had wagered you might feel this way as an elf, but I’d never thought it would be SO important to you. But I would never have required it and I still don’t. What I AM concerned with is this; does our relationship hurt you?”

“No!” my eyes snapped open and I shook my head. “Dorian, no. I... I just wish.... ugh.”

I struggled to find the words. Killing, brooding, and sarcasm were simple feats for me. Feelings were much more difficult.

“I do not WANT this to come between us, it just... lingers there. I do not wish YOU were different, I just wish... THINGS were different.”

He nodded his head, processing. I hoped my explanation could be sufficient enough, but I didn’t know how to overcome this obstacle. I didn’t care about the rumors, I didn’t care about Dorian’s geneology, I cared only that Tevinter , as a country, was what it was.

Cole had once said “All of his people are in chains and yet he loves the Master.” His words had never left me. The truth of that one certainly had a distinct sting to it.

“I think I understand,” Dorian said finally. “We must change THINGS, then.”

“What?” I said, not comprehending.

His face was lighting up the way it did when he was putting his vast intelligence to good use. “It is not enough that I am not like them. Just as you have said in the past that it is not enough the Dalish keep only themselves free. You are endeavoring to change that and so must I. I must be your ally. Your accomplice in this effort.”

I sighed. It was very sweet of him to say but I still felt hopelessness. “And how would you do that? I’ve told you, Celene cannot spare the resources, neither can the Inquisition.”

“She does not have to,” he said and I raised an eyebrow at him.

“We will take them,” he said definitively. “We have Caer Bronach, Suledin Keep, and now Griffin Wing as well. We have plenty of space and need of aid, any elf that should wish to join our cause may do so and find a well paid position. We have SOME from the alienages and the countryside now but we could take more. We could advertise it as an option.”

And as for Tevinter... I shall write to some old friends. They.... may... be sympathetic to our cause. Felix certainly would have been. Even my father disapproved of harsh treatment of slaves and most citizens publicly scorn blood sacrifices, they may be willing to assist those under the worst of conditions to escape if they believed there was a place for them to go. And there IS a place for them to go because there is the Inquisition.”

He was speaking quickly, fervently coming up with his strategy. My mouth hung slightly agape in disbelief and I felt as though I could cry. I was just staring at him, motionless. Though some humans had spoken of sympathy before, none had ever offered aid the way he was doing right now. It was more than I could do alone.

“You think that that would work?” I dared to allow myself to entertain the idea. Getting real, living people out of their enslavement? And his being a Tevinter... it actually... it was an asset to my people right now. If I wrote a letter, a Magister would laugh madly right before he burned it. I had never thought to ask because I had never thought a Tevinter would care enough to listen, but Dorian had friends who might do just that.

He looked as though he was mulling over pros and cons but before he could even answer me I was kissing him. Dorian was many things but he was not a liar. If he was saying he’d try to do this, he would. I realized in that moment that he was possibly the truest friend I’d ever had, and that included members of my own clan. When I pulled away from his lips I was crying. And laughing at myself for crying. 

“Well,” he said chuckling and reaching up to wipe tears off my face. “That’s settled then, and I will begin addressing letters first thing in the morning.”

“Ar lath ma, vhenan,” it simply slipped out when I breathed.

“Are you going to tell me what that means?”

I leaned my forehead into his, giving a slight shake of the head to indicate that I would not, and cupped the back of his head with my hands, eyes closed, smiling.

I remembered when I’d met him. Gods I thought I’d kill him. ‘Fen’Harel take him,’ I’d said. Now it was ‘Mythal’enaste’ every time I had to leave his side.

“There it is,” he whispered.

“What?” I asked.

“Don’t you remember? I said I should relish the challenge of finding tenderness in you. It appears I have met that challenge, I have found it.”

I snorted. I certainly did remember. “I suppose you are right,” I said.

“Not a real surprise there,” he boasted, “I usually am.”

I growled and rolled my eyes at him before I kissed him again. He opened his mouth to let my tongue in and clasped my hip bones to pull us closer. I could feel that he was hard through his breeches and I moaned into his lips.

He pulled back and said, “Now, why did you want to see me tonight?”

I smirked and started unbuttoning my tunic. “Because I always want to see you.”

“Your own personal Tevinter,” he smirked back at me.

My chest now bare I cupped his face and shook my head. “My equal,” I corrected him. “You do not belong to me.”

“Oh, but I truly do,” he moaned as I sucked at his neck and began to pull at his robes.

I snickered at that, thinking of all the times I’d thought it was the other way around. Whether it was true for either of us was inconsequential, we’d both nearly died. We’d both nearly gotten trapped in the Fade. I had to remind myself all the time that any moment we were together could potentially be the last one. And when the Inquisition was done with Corypheus? Who could say what happened then? He could not belong to me, it was as simple as that.

“Wait,” he said shirtless, with trousers I’d been working on unlacing and my mouth on his jaw. I immediately unhanded him at the word and took a deep breath, stepping back and inquiring with my eyes.

“What I did in your tent the other night didn’t cross any boundaries for you, did it?” he asked sincerely.

I furrowed my brow. To my recollection, though I’d been drunk, that night had gotten better and better at every turn. What was he on about? Then it dawned on me. I had let him use his fingers.

“Heh,” my face broke into a half cocked grin. Damn. “Now that you point it out, you’re the first human to get that far.”

“And is that... all right?” he looked troubled.

I stepped back into him and placed my hands on his hips. “Is that what you’re worried about? That trick with the lightning? Dorian, I told you; the only reason I can believe I offered myself to you is because you’re YOU.”

I licked my lips and smirked and moved a hand between his legs. “To be honest I’m getting a bit curious as to what you could do with this,” I squeezed him as I said ‘this’ to indicate my meaning.

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Fair enough,” he replied in a voice that betrayed his arousal, “I expect you to keep me informed of any changes in your perspective, then.”

“Thank you for checking on me,” I returned his courtesy, but I meant it as well, it was good of him to have thought of it. It felt strange to me that I had not. Liquor and love, I supposed. “Can I go back to removing your breeches?”

“If you must,” he feigned annoyance.

“Fuck off,” I laughed and tossed him into his sea of pillows. A second later I was on top of him tearing at the rest of his lacing before working on the buckles of his boots.

“Why do you wear these around at night?” I asked as I removed his footwear. After supper time I was barefoot around the castle, posterity be damned.

“Because I am not you,” he chuckled.

“They’re in my way,” I said sulkily as I pulled off the second boot, which I threw across his little room where it smacked the door, much to Dorian’s entertainment. 

“Always so eager,” he was chortling.

I just let out a low rumble, smirking at him as I stripped him of his breeches as well, his perfect cock springing forward to meet me.

“Well, now YOUR trousers are in the w-ah haaah,” he reacted as I closed my shield hand around his dick. I could feel my Marked palm pulsating with my heartbeat tonight.

My only desire then was to pleasure him. I didn’t care that my own pants were still on, I didn’t care if I didn’t cum at all tonight, I simply wanted to hear Dorian mewling and clutching at his pillows. I still couldn’t believe this man, THIS sarcastic, conceited, Tevinter was as sweet and as genuine as he was. I couldn’t believe he was the one who’d gotten underneath my skin and stolen my affections. The irony of it was always taunting me on the sidelines, but I was trying to give up caring about that either.

My own personal Tevinter, he’d called himself. Fuck the rest of them, this one was on my side.

I lowered my lips around him and cupped my tongue around the head as I sucked in tandem with my glowing fist.

“Mmmmaker, ung,” Dorian groaned breathlessly, opening his eyes in shock.

At that my erection did start to protest its exclusion from all of this and the magic in my palm flared, which sent Dorian’s fingers grasping for something to hold on to as he cried out again. I moved my hand up to his chest and sank my face downward until I felt him in the back of my throat. 

“Stop,” he begged, propping himself up on his elbows to look at me. “Please, I don’t want to be finished yet.”

My cock jumped and I ‘mmmm’ed while he was still in my mouth, but I released him per his request. He collapsed panting and I could see a little twitch in his thigh. I nipped at it and snickered as Dorian jumped before I rose to remove the rest of my own clothing. Once my lower half was freed of its fabric prison, I crawled over him and laid atop his chest so our faces could be level.

“Tell me what you’d like,” I commanded, lightly dancing my fingertips across his skin.

He stretched a hand down to where both our erections were pressing into one another’s stomachs and stroked mine. I felt magic but it wasn’t lightning it was... something else... Gods it felt like the magic they’d used to heal me after the Giant. I stared into his eyes while my breaths started coming shorter and more ragged. 

“Increases the flow of blood,” he smirked at seeing my reaction.

The sensation intensified and I dropped my head onto his shoulder to preoccupy myself with lapping at his collar bone and throat. It WAS a type of healing magic, then. I clasped his arm to steady myself, I didn’t think I’d ever been so hard in all my life.

“I imagine I’d like you exactly as you are, all but for the fact that you’re not inside me,” he murmured in my ear before he caught it between his teeth, making me release a soft whimper.

“Well that’s easy enough to fix,” I whispered breathlessly as I kissed his jawline. “Do you have lubricant in here?”

“On the shelf,” he replied, petting my hair with his free hand. “I’ll get it.”

I rolled off of him reluctantly so that he could retrieve the little jar, but he swiftly returned and started coating my dick in it himself.

“Ahh,” I hissed as he did, my cock feeling overly sensitive from the magic. “Shouldn’t I...?” Usually I prepared a man before I just went for it.

“No need,” he insisted, “I want you, and I want you now.”

He laid on his back and wiped his hand on a blanket while I moved between his legs. He propped himself up for me to position myself to push into him. He was Gods awfully tight and my fingers dug into his hips as I pulled myself deeper inch by inch.

We were both desperately sucking in air as I moved to support my weight on my sword hand by his shoulder. I could lean down and kiss him from here, which I did while my free hand cupped his face and moved to his throat, squeezing lightly to test his reaction. His eyes popped open with such an intense stare I was about to release him, but his own hand clasped over mine and held it there. He was biting his lower lip.

I thrust slowly and deliberately, I felt the resistance lessen as his body accepted my presence. His legs wrapped around me and his hands explored my back but as I angled my penis upward to strike his prostate his hands began to claw at me instead.

I was nuzzling into the side of his neck, a small, pleasured sound escaping my mouth with each thrust. I could feel his cock pressing into my abdomen and I moved my Marked palm back down toward it.

“Yes,” he reached for my face as I gripped him to pull me to his mouth once more. “Yes, ah!”

He pushed his tongue past my teeth and used his legs to squeeze me deeper into himself.

“Mmmm,” I was trying to protest into the kiss. He hadn’t cum yet, I didn’t want to be first, but the magic he’d done had caused everything to be overstimulating, I wasn’t going to last.

I squeezed with my shield hand as our lips were still locked. He broke off for only a moment to cry out and then his mouth returned to mine. I could hear the crackle of electricity that always let me know he was close. I thrust harder.

His head sank backwards and he moaned loudly. I was battling my own orgasm at the image of his arched neck, slick with sweat, and the upturned corners of his smile. The magic in my palm flared for the second time at my arousal and I pushed myself all the way into him when it did.

The room lit up as he climaxed, brighter than anything I’d seen yet. I turned my face to see lightning crackling across the entire stone ceiling of his room. I started pumping quickly in and out of him, the arm I was using to support myself was shaking. He pulled at my other hand to stop me from rubbing his dick any more and I moved it to grasp his hip.

I was in such ecstasy I could barely see. He picked his head up and started sucking at my collar bone. My head dropped and my eyes drifted shut and I just thrust, exerting myself to even greater speed. He moved from my collar bone, to my neck, and when he growled and nipped at my ear I finally reached the edge and descended into a sputtering, trembling orgasm.

“Hah ah mmmm,” I gulped. “Mmmm.”

I searched for his lips with my own and kissed him passionately while I waited for the tremors in my hips to pass. Then I gently pulled out of him and rolled to his side, satisfied and spent.

We both giggled as we caught our breath. I suddenly remembered what the Iron Bull had told me that morning.

“Bull said he wants to watch,” I chuckled while I panted.

“Well I would imagine half the castle should like to watch,” responded Dorian. I laughed, I should have expected as much from him. “We are probably the single most attractive pair in all of Thedas.”

Of him, I believed that. “That’s at least 75% on you.”

“Oh come now, Amatus, are you daft? I was under the impression you’d seen yourself in a mirror before, or are you insulting my taste in men?”

I chuckled and rolled over to kiss him some more. “I would never insult your taste in men,” I said. “Whatever it is I am all the more fortunate for it.”

“Yes, you are,” he gloated.

“Josephine is writing to the Grand Archivist in Minrathous, by the way,” I‘d meant to tell him earlier but I’d gotten... distracted. He was always distracting. “We’re hoping we won’t have to resort to bribes but if we do well... that’s why we keep Sera away from the treasury and why we can’t give wealth to the alienages, right? To line the pockets of an already noble man?”

“We will fix it,” he reassured me. “As I said, when the power grubbing people of Tevinter learn that Corypheus is a man, not a God as they believe, they’ll abandon him. They know nothing of loyalty, I will promise you that.”

“Erimond seemed pretty loyal.”

“Erimond still believed Corypheus was a God,” Dorian countered. “Thank you for attempting to retrieve the Liberalum for me.”

He smirked the way he always did before he picked on me and yanked me closer to him, “I know how much you loooath dealing with Tevinters.”

“I do,” I smiled at him and stroked the curve of his ear with a finger. “Gods I hate it so much.”

He kissed me then. Sweet. Always so sweet.

“Should I get dressed?” I asked. I was awfully tired, Erimond’s execution felt as though it’d been ages ago though it had only been that morning. I didn’t know if he wanted me to stay.

“Why on Earth would you do that?” he asked.

“I mean, I suppose I could walk through the Hall naked...” I offered.

“Did you come just to ravage me and leave, then?”

I chuckled, “You’re forgetting the minor mental break I had first and THAT was hardly a ravaging.”

“If that’s the case I think I’d like to be ravaged next time,” he purred suggestively.

“Well you’ll have to give me some time, your magic,” I yawned, “Your magic really takes it out of me.”

He pulled me onto his chest and petted my hair. I drifted asleep to the rise and fall of his breathing and the beat of his heart, surrounded by brightly colored pillows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Upgrade from ally to accomplice. Always. This might undergo edits but I’m fairly happy with it for now. Happy enough to publish it anyway.


	29. Pillow Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *shrugs* I wanted to set up for One Less Venatori and this is what happened.

“All of his people are in chains and yet he loves the master.”

It echoed from a place far away, and perhaps only in my head. My face was bloody, I could feel it trickling down into my eye, and my hands were bound, attached to a marble floor. Dorian knelt across from me, his own eyes wet with tears and his speech impeded by the silk scarf tied around his mouth.

Rage burned in me, I could not see him like this. I did not want to.

His father stood between us, dressed all in black velvet robes.

“This has gone on long enough, Dorian,” he was berating his son. “It is time to put all of this foolishness behind you.”

I was frantic, how had I gotten here? How did I get us out?

“Not only sleeping with a man but with an ELF? It disgusts me. I will not have it,” Magister Pavus spoke with authority in his voice and a glittering dagger in his hand.

I looked at Dorian longingly. I just needed a pause, a moment to get my bearings. I wished I could speak to him, but it seemed I’d been gagged as well.

“We are performing this ritual and we will ensure there can be no reminder of your vile paramour left when it is over,” the Magister stepped behind me and brought his blade to my throat.

It was then that I comprehended. He was going to change Dorian. And he was going to use MY blood to do it. Fear crept into my eyes but I kept them glued to Dorian’s. I think I was more terrified for him. He didn’t need to change. He didn’t need to be something he was not. Doing this robbed him of his entire life.

My lover’s expression shook with horror as the dagger started to glide, slicing into my flesh. I think he might have been trying to scream. I felt warmth starting to trickle down to my collarbone and the cold metal pushing deeper...

I gasped as I shot up in bed, instinctively checking my throat for the wound with my shield hand. Where was I? It looked so unfamiliar for a moment before things swam into focus and I remembered that I had fallen asleep in Dorian’s little dungeon. I was slick with sweat and it took a minute for my breathing to equalize. When I flopped back down a smooth, brown arm reached over to hold me.

“What troubles you, Amatus?” my beloved asked quietly, his voice heavy with sleep.

I swallowed hard. “Nothing, Vhenan, go back to sleep.”

He was already rising though, snapping his fingers so that a candle sprang to life on his shelf.

“Your pillow is soaked, YOU’RE soaked” he was remarking. He shook his head and inquired with his eyes.

“It’s nothing to be concerned with...” I tried to say.

“Amheotil, do not behave as though I’ve never been acquainted with your insomnia,” he chastised me. “Frankly, it’s insulting, you know you can speak to me.”

“Fine,” I sighed. “A nightmare. Your father was forcing us to... do the ritual, the one that would change you. And I... was to be the sacrifice.”

He blinked a few times, speechless.

“That’s nauseating,” he finally spat.

“I did tell you to go back to sleep,” I murmured.

“Earlier,” he started, “you said that you had nightmares of Tevinter as a child, did you not?”

“I vaguely remember glancing over that, yes,” I cleared my throat, embarrassed by my forthcoming in our previous conversation.

“Do you remember the nightmares in the Fade? The worries of the dreamers we passed?” he asked.

“Of course I do,” I responded, not knowing quite where he was going with this.

“How do I save you from yours?” he clasped my hand and stroked it with his thumb.

I gave him a loving frown. It was endearing that he wished to ease my burden but all I could say was, “I do not know.”

“Nothing keeps them away forever,” I explained. “I was largely free of them for quite a time, but they have been common since... well, The Inquisition. The Anchor.”

“But this one was about...” he tried to say but I saw where he was going.

“About what you’re father tried to do to you,” I said truthfully. “I was not afraid of dying, I was afraid of him making you like the rest of them. You are a person I never thought could exist, Dorian, NOTHING about you should ever change.”

“The things you say,” he whispered sweetly, leaning in to plant a kiss on my shoulder. “You really are the best of us, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you dreamt of being a Tevinter blood sacrifice and you were afraid for ME,” he chuckled softly and petted my face. “You are too good.”

I placed my own hand over his on my cheek and leaned into it, closing my eyes. “I often say the same of you,” I said as I opened them again. “You are a rare man, and an even rarer Tevinter.”

“Funny you should mention that,” he began, withdrawing his hand from mine. “I’ve thought of something else I rather think we should speak on.”

“What would that be?” I asked.

“There are Venatori mages out there, lurking in the wilderness. This comes as no surprise to you, since you can't swing a dead cat without hitting one of Corypheus' minions, but...” he paused for a moment, “these particular Venatori have additional significance to myself. For one, I know them personally. I would call them 'friends,' except that would imply I didn't want them dead. Which I do. Since I have an idea of where they might be, thanks to an investigation I began before coming south, I thought we could put our heads together and track them down.”

I stared at him. ‘Before he came South’? Why hadn’t he brought it up until now?

“At which point they would sneer something at you in Tevinter, and you would be forced to kill them,” he said sarcastically. “Which makes everyone happy! You for eliminating a potential threat, me for eliminating men and women too stupid and shortsighted to be permitted to continue to breathe. They would be less happy, but who cares about them? Up to you, my lord Inquisitor.”

I laughed as he used my title. It always seemed bizarre coming from him, as he was often the reason I was able to forget about my esteemed position for any length of time and simply be a person. 

“I thought it might help you feel... a LITTLE less surrounded by those nasty Tevinters,” he was certainly trying to make me feel better and I did believe it was working.

“Dorian, I am only wondering what took you so long to ask,” I said. “If you have leads, Leliana will have locations within the week, of that we can be certain.”

“You think it would take an entire week?” he gasped. “Why I think that if I went and spoke to the Lady Nightingale now she’d know their whereabouts by the time I was ready for breakfast.”

“You know you’re probably right,” I agreed. “Do you think she sleeps? Or should we go check the rookery?”

“I’d say we should absolutely go to the rookery, but that would require putting on clothes and that... well that is something I wish you, especially, never had to do,” he ran a hand over my bare thigh beneath the blankets.

“Is that so?”

“Quite so,” he affirmed. “If only we were quaint peasants with no responsibilities and no need to keep up courtly appearances.”

“As a former quaint peasant myself, I can assure you that is not how it works,” I laughed.

“Only beneath the full moon then?” he referred to a common myth about the Dalish.

“Shut up,” I smirked at him.

“Make me,” he challenged.

We had a staring contest in the candlelight for a moment. I wasn’t certain he was asking for what I thought he was asking for, but I remembered him clutching my hand tighter around his throat and for the first time it occurred to me Dorian and I had never spoken of HIS specific interests in the bedroom. He’d expressed that he wanted tenderness from me, so that was what I tried to give him, but he’d never shied away from my outbursts of roughness.

“Are you...?” I needed him to say it plainly.

“Giving you permission to stop holding back?” he finished for me.

I swallowed hard. I remembered when all I’d wanted was to shove his face down on my cock, Sylaise have mercy, had that only been two weeks ago?

“Do not look so shocked, Amheotil, did you think I had never noticed your fingers twitching in my hair?” he snickered.

“I... just...” I cleared my throat. “I respect you. I would never want you to think that I didn’t.”

“As well you have my respect. Which is why you now have my consent. If the urge strikes you, you may do to me what you would like, within reason, of course,” he said.

“Why are you telling me this now?” I questioned.

“Remember when I asked you for your name in Haven?” he answered with a question of his own.

“Heh,” I snorted, “I remember it was not a conversation that lasted very long.”

“Mmm,” he agreed. “And I did not comprehend why the very word ‘Dalish’ from my lips made you so angry.”

His expression was morose. I remembered snarling and asking if he preferred the term ‘slave’. Even then I’d been unreasonably attracted to him, I’d just hated him as well.

“Listen, I should have never...”

“No!” he interrupted me. “You had every right. That is what I’m saying; I did not understand it then but I do now. What they... what WE have done to your people... it is nothing short of atrocity. I see it all so clearly now, the effect that it has had on you. Continues to have on you.”

“You told me to use you once, now I am simply offering you the same. If you ever feel the need to dominate a Tevinter as an outlet for your frustrations, I am but your humble servant,” he finished.

“Humble?” I cocked an eyebrow at him.

“All right, maybe not HUMBLE, but certainly willing,” he rolled his eyes at me. “I am positive you would never hurt me, so you need not treat me as though I am fragile.”

“I didn’t think I had been,” in fact, if I recalled I’d thrown him into the bed the first time we’d ever had sex.

“No, but you are not letting yourself go either.”

I could not be sure I’d ever take advantage of his offer. Dorian had earned a place in my heart, he was no longer just another human to be conquered. It was true I held back because of it but... “Is that what you want?”

“Mmmm in my experience sex that is... unforgiving... can be quite exciting.”

“Duly noted,” I gave him a sly smile. “Is that what you want... right now?”

“The Herald of Andraste should never have to ask,” he moved closer to me and rubbed and erection on my thigh.

I growled and rolled to be on top of him. Gods, I hoped nothing ever, ever changed this man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would YOU be able to sleep if you were leading the Inquisition? I didn’t think so.
> 
> Also, from the Bull/Dorian romance option we know full well that Dorian is a power bottom. Not sure how far I’ll take that but in my timeline they’ve now been bangin’ for like two weeks (give or take a few days) because I flew through some shit so it’s about time to just put that out there. Also, the last like, what? FOUR chapters have all happened in the span of a day? Yikes.
> 
> I apologize to anyone trying to put a timeline on this, I literally don’t even know myself and should probably figure that out for side story purposes.


	30. Josephine, Leliana, Cole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a meandering kind of thing. Covering some plot lines and tying up some feels.

I could not have guessed the time if my life had depended on it. The lack of windows compared to the open air balcony I’d grown used to was disorienting, to say the least. I felt as though I could’ve stayed in Dorian’s little dungeon with him forever and simply pretended the world outside of those four walls did not exist. It was a nice fantasy, where the words ‘Tevinter’ and ‘Dalish’ did not matter, and we could just... be. A world in which the whereabouts of an ancient Darkspawn Magister were irrelevant and no one needed me, my Marked hand nothing more than a fun trick to use in bed.

I thought about all of this as I buttoned my tunic and my lover fastened his bootstraps. It WAS a nice fantasy, but there was work to be done. I had to speak with Leliana, Dorian had gathered all of his information and bundled it neatly, it had been hidden as one of the books in his private collection. It was a simple enough task for me to explain the situation and hand it over to her.

Dorian had the more difficult task; figuring out what one could possibly say to a Tevinter to convince them to aid escaping slaves. I didn’t know if he could manage to do it, but the fact that he was going to try meant the world to me. I vowed to leave him to his work today, no distractions.

He lead me out the way we’d come until we emerged in an area I was familiar with, by the kitchen. A familiar face was lugging a sack of flour as large as he was through the hallway.

“Well I know we’re not paying you enough to do that,” I disdained as I hoisted it onto my shoulder.

The scrawny 13 year old serving boy beamed up at me. “Inquisitor!” he shouted excitedly, bowing.

“I never caught your name, Da’len,” I said, hoping to introduce him to a bit of Elvhen language.

“Kaeso, ser,” he responded. “Kaeso Fric. From Fereldan.”

Dorian was smirking and watching the exchange. I remembered the first time we’d encountered this boy he had thrown me against a wall and told me I was unlike anyone he’d ever met. When I noticed the look on his face now and thought back to that moment, I realized this was what he meant when he said I’d changed him. He loved this about me.

“Amheotil of the Dalish clan Lavellan,” I returned the introduction. “From the Free Marches.”

With the flour secured on one shoulder I gestured to the mage in our midst.

“And this is Dorian, of House Pavus,” I looked over the boy’s head and smiled at the man I adored so much as I added, “from Tevinter.”

“Well met, Kaeso Fric,” Dorian reached out a hand.

Kaeso clasped the outstretched fingers and replied with his most authoritative sounding “Well met” in return.

I grinned and then made my way to open the kitchen door, the sack was getting rather heavy and I thought I should find where it belonged. When I entered the room I could see a large, angry looking woman stirring a massive cauldron over a fire. She turned at the sound of my shuffling feet and looked positively astonished by what she saw.

“Where should I put this?” I asked.

“Aren’t you the Inquisitor?” was all she seemed to be able to put into words.

“Yes. And this is a sack of flour,” I patted the bag on my shoulder.

“Of course! Yes! Over here, if you would,” she snapped out of her trance and patted a wooden table. 

I threw it down where she directed as Kaeso entered the kitchen behind me.

“Boy!” she said sternly, “Why is the Inquisitor himself bringing me flour?”

“I saw a friend struggling,” I responded before he could. “Kaeso is a good lad, he got it all the way to the door before we crossed paths.”

Her expression was stunned. This must be the grouch of a chef I’d never seen but heard whispers of from kitchen staff. However, I was not someone she could bark at. For as long as she stared at me, I stared directly back at her. Kaeso looked from one of us to the other, not being in a position to speak to either of us, really.

“Thank you, your Worship,” she finally said.

“You’re welcome,” I returned her formality pointedly. Sera kept up with this one, I’d heard some stories I did not think I liked very much.

I turned to Kaeso, making a show of my favor for the boy. “Did Dorian have anything to say?”

“He said ‘Tell him I must get to work, he’ll know what I mean’.... and that he’s rather fond of jelly tartlets, but I don’t think that one was for you, I think that was more for the chef,” said Kaeso.

I chuckled. Dorian would be trying to put in kitchen requests the moment he had the chance.

“Thank you, Da’len,” I said to him and then turned to the chef, “When you have the time, I don’t suppose you could make some jelly tartlets?”

“I suppose I could... we’ve got more flour now.”

“I’d appreciate it... personally,” I gave her a measured smile, perhaps she could be reasoned with. “There’s no hurry, of course, I understand you’re a busy woman.”

She inclined her head in acknowledgment but said nothing more.

“Can I ask you something?” came Kaeso’s voice as I turned to leave.

“Any time,” I replied.

“What is Dalen?”

“Da’len,” I gently corrected his pronunciation, “means ‘child’ or ‘kid’ in Elvhen.”

“Oh,” he mulled it over. “Why not just call me kid then?”

The chef huffed over her cauldron, not impressed by the informal manner in which he addressed me to be sure. I ignored it.

“Because there’s never any harm in learning something new,” I tousled his hair. “Now... the Inquisition calls.”

He grinned at me as I walked out the door of the kitchen. I closed it behind me and lingered for a minute to ensure the ornery chef wouldn’t berate him once I’d left.

All I heard was the boisterous woman saying, “Well, we’re going to need butter to make pastry, do you remember the way to where we’ve been keeping things frozen?”

Apparently Dorian was going to get those tartlets sooner rather than later. I smirked and aimed myself next toward the stairs that would bring me to Josephine’s study. I could hear her muffled voice speaking to one of her messengers before I opened the door. When I entered the room she noticed me and smiled before she directed her attention back to the slim man she’d been talking to.

“Please do inform Lady Vivienne that the import of Nevarran ermine fur is not legal in Orlais,” she said courteously but with an air of finality.

The messenger looked a bit sheepish as he replied, “She knows that... she told me that’s why it was in fashion this season.”

Josephine rolled her eyes and shook her head, waving the messenger away. He nodded, likely understanding that he was to deliver the message anyway.

When he was gone I approached her desk asking, “Any word from Minrathous yet?”

“Leliana brought an initial response this morning,” her voice was not overly enthusiastic.

“And?”

“Polite misdirection,” she scowled. “Dorian says the Grand Archivist is the king of this particular castle, and knows it. He might be blocking our efforts out of allegiance to Corypheus or simply because he can.”

“Ugh,” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Is it too much to ask that one of these nobles would ever just... help for kindness’ sake?”

She snorted. “Welcome to my daily life, Inquisitor.”

“Would you like to trade?” I offered in jest.

“You fighting nobles and me fighting dragons?” she speculated.

“Well I’m certain I could take the Grand Archivist in a fight,” I scoffed. “He sounds ancient.”

She snickered into her hand. She had hugged me after Adamant, alone in this office. She had waited until there were no eyes upon us and threw her arms around me. She and Leliana would have been the first to read the message Cullen had sent by raven, they were the first in Skyhold to know we’d been through the Fade. Of course, she’d been more cordial than to cry, but she’d expressed her sincerest welcome back to the castle.

“Leliana could certainly send an agent... the book goes missing... who would know?” she waved a hand frivolously.

“I would have to hope that agent knows how the Minrathous Archive is sorting it’s literature these days,” I responded.

“You could always just threaten him,” she parroted the knight commander’s opinion. “He knows who you are, does he truly want to make an enemy of you?”

The thought of scaring the wits out of such a revered figure in Minrathous had a certain appeal. Did I test the waters and see how he felt about an invasion? I supposed we could free elves the old fashioned way; with blood. It would have to wait until after the war was won...

Then I thought of Dorian, toiling to negotiate with his people at this very moment, fighting the war with diplomacy. So many had already died, and he was trying to prevent any more from doing so. I thought of the pain I felt when I saw Elvhen ruins scattered with ancient bones, how he would have to feel the same after MY army occupied his home and destroyed his history if I brought swords to Tevinter.

I would not be THEM. I would not be the monster. I was far better than that.

“I don’t think that’s wise, I’m trying to build a better image for elves here. We are not the savages they tell rumors of,” I said. “I’ll play their little game, if that’s what it takes.”

“I would have to agree, and have to say I’m impressed by your foresight,” she cocked an eyebrow and then clapped her hands together and said, “Then we bribe the man with gifts and favors. This is normal for Tevinter, and what he expects.”

“Politics are an expensive annoyance,” my arms were crossed.

“And yet you’re getting rather good at navigating them.”

“Heh, I’ll still let you be the one to write it down,” I smirked at her.

“That’s likely an intelligent decision as well, Inquisitor,” she was already pulling out fresh parchment and ink. “Now we just have to hope that Dorian has left us a few of the good bottles of wine to send to Minrathous in exchange for his book.”

I palmed my face, trying to suppress a laugh. Is that where he was getting his wine?

“I heard about the two of you, by the way,” she looked up from her desk to smirk at me. “People keep asking me if you are together or if kissing another man after a scuffle is a Dalish thing.”

I had to collect myself to keep from openly cackling before I could ask, “And what have you told them?”

She giggled, “That I’m sure I don’t know.”

Neither of us could maintain our composure. We both dissolved into laughter. Josephine had been managing rumors of Dorian and I for quite some time now, they had been circulating for practically as long as I’d known him. So it was hard to believe there was a single person who’d chalk my lips on his in the midst of our army camp up to my being Dalish. Really, what were these humans teaching their children?

“I needed a good laugh, so thank you for that,” I was still grinning. “But I’ll let you get about your bribery in peace.”

“I’ll see you for supper I hope,” she said as she gave me a little wave goodbye.

I strolled out of her office and directly across the Hall to make my way to the rookery. It was hard to pass by Dorian’s floor without stopping to pester him, but I could see at a wooden table he was staring at the ceiling and chewing on his quill, concentrating. I reminded myself that had sworn I would not distract him today and managed to sneak by without him noticing me at all.

I found Leliana bent over a desk examining two pieces of parchment with a quiet intensity. I cleared my throat to bring her awareness to my presence. She looked up wordlessly and I pulled the collection of papers from where I’d tucked them beneath my Battlecoat.

“What is this?” she asked, taking the bound stack from me and moving her own things aside on the desk to start untying the twine that kept it together.

“Information,” I said. “Your favorite thing.”

“I recognize Dorian’s hand,” she remarked as she began to leaf through the different notes he’d scrawled on scraps of parchment and torn book pages. I didn’t think Dorian would ever tear a book, I thought as I realized what I was looking at.

“He’s connected some old acquaintances to the Venatori, and has reason to believe they are here in Thedas,” I explained.

“A threat, to be sure,” she scowled more closely at a specific page.

“Can you track them down?” I asked, already knowing the answer was yes.

“There appears to be a substantial amount of work already done for me. Let us look into it, carefully and quietly,” she gave me a nod. “We do not wish to alert these Venatori to our awareness of their existence.”

“Let me know what you find.”

“Of course, Inquisitor,” she bowed her head.

I returned the respectful gesture. Leliana was nothing of not a diligent and faithful servant. First to the Divine, now to me. There was no one I could rely on more if what I sought were results. She’d never failed to deliver me a single thing I asked for.

Josephine was writing, Dorian was writing, Leliana was writing, Fenedhis, I’d have wagered even Cassandra was still writing. It made me wish I could be a writer. All I knew how to do was swing a sword. Of course, I’d written to the Empress herself previously, but that had not gone so well, and I was glad to have better people to put to the task. But now that they were all working at it... what was there left for me to do?

I pondered on it as I strolled into the Hall. That was when I noticed Varric. I had not seen him since... since Adamant. The great weight of Stroud’s loss settled back on me with a swift and agonizing ache. I approached him gently, knowing it must have been consuming him.

“I knew Stroud, you know... not well but,” he said softly when I was within earshot. “He saved Hawke’s younger sister from the Blight.”

I huffed at that. Of course he had, to the bone the man was made of honor.

“Not many people knew who he really was but he was a hero when it mattered,” Varric turned from the fireplace to face me. “He wasn’t the first good man to fall to Corypheus, and he won’t be the last.”

His expression was drawn in pain as he lamented, “This story is no good for heroes.”

I couldn’t disagree with him. And in reality, most stories did not turn out well for the hero. Lindiranae had been a hero in the tales of my people, and I had had to dig her forgotten relic out from beneath the only monument to her death that was ever likely to exist.

“You must be glad to have Hawke back in one piece,” I tried to keep the only reason I had chosen Stroud in mind.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Closest thing to a miracle I’ve ever seen there.”

I wondered what that meant exactly.

Varric sighed heavily and said, “Hawke asked me to tell everyone in Kirkwall where he’s going. Maker’s breath, Isabella is going to be furious.”

Hawke had left then... “Where IS he going?” I asked.

“Weisshaupt,” he told me. “But I guess I’ve got some letters to write, excuse me.”

I nodded. Another one of my companions off to do their writing. It was going to be a quiet day in the castle. 

I moved in the direction of the stables without really planning to do so at all. Stroud was once again on my mind. Grief was funny that way, one moment a thing could hurt so bad it was comparable to a crippling injury, then it could be forgotten to give way to joy, or morph into another pain, or, as it was now, simply cover you like a blanket that you could not seem to shake off. But what I needed in that moment was exactly what I’d needed the first night after the battle; Elgar’nan.

There was a quiet understanding in animals that was difficult to find in other people. A silent, unspoken comfort that did not judge or ask questions. I opened the stable door for him to follow me, without saddle or bridle, to the gate of the castle and beyond. He kept my slow pace. No loping off to be a Hart, just a deliberate walk beside me.

People stared, as they sometimes did. This must have seemed like some strange mysticism to them. The man with the pointed ears and tattooed face wordlessly controlling his animal familiar and disappearing into the mountainside without an explanation. Perhaps to walk the Fade again, as it was apparently becoming a pass time between beheadings and private meetings with the Tevinter Magister. 

The servants had learned through my own efforts, and Sera’s, that I was nothing to fear. The nobles on the other hand, were quite a different group. Many of them were here for Josephine or Cullen, Leliana, Cassandra, Vivienne. They understood nothing of me. Nothing of a man like Stroud. People like us were often viewed as people not important enough to speak to. And as Inquisitor I’d skipped over their station and become TOO important to speak to.

Frankly, I feared letting them know me too well anyway. I was still serious to their eyes. What they saw in me right now was intention, deliberation, not the quiet sadness I was truly feeling. Physically surviving the Fade would be carried on as the stuff of legends, not the traumatizing, living hell it had actually been.

I’d learned to accept that the misconceptions surrounding me were part of my power over others. Would the masked Orlesians fawn over me if they realized I had feelings and desires just as they did? People I cared for and laughed with? That Andraste hadn’t chosen me for shit?

I walked as I pondered, and soon realized I was nearly knee deep in snow. I sighed and looked around. Elgar’nan was still no more than three paces on my right, an unobstructed view off the mountainside on my left. I turned back to my Hart and jerked my head to indicate he could leave me be. He stepped toward me and pushed his muzzle into my chest before he trotted away gracefully through the ground cover.

We were well away from the keep now, the sun high in the sky, warm, even though the ground was blanketed with this fluffy layer of frozen powder. I cleared off a boulder and hopped up to sit on it, thinking perhaps if I stared out over the vastness of this single valley I could feel small for a while. And perhaps that would make the grief and the responsibility feel smaller too.

“‘It should have been me’,” I nearly sprang off the ledge of the cliff beneath me as Cole’s voice sounded on my right. “It’s the quietest whisper now, but it used to be louder.”

I blinked a few times, still in shock and trying to process his words. I could recall Dorian by the fire the other night; ‘If I know you like I think I do, then you are probably wishing you could trade yourself for Stroud’.

“Yes, Cole,” I finally said. “It was much louder before. I’m all right now.”

“Then why...” he shook his head as though he disbelieved I was all right at all. Poor Cole, to come near me was to hear a thousand concerns for him. “Why are you out here?”

I looked back out over the valley. I could see from the ocean practically to the Hinterlands. I sighed. I couldn’t say for sure what drew me out here, running into Varric and feeling my still fresh wounds, having such an in depth discussion of my old ones with Dorian the previous night, just knowing that I had to rely on the others to do the writing, feeling useless until we had some information for me to act on.

“You’re good enough,” said Cole as I tried to sort through my feelings.

I turned toward him quizzically. Was that what I was feeling? I supposed there were times I thought that Dorian was too good for me, wondered why he’d chosen me. Wondered why Stroud would ever sacrifice himself at my command. Wondered why Cassandra and Leliana and Josephine and Cullen had chosen ME to lead this entire endeavor.

“You’re good enough,” he said again.

My expression softened. “Thank you, Cole.”

It was a sincere kind of gratitude. Sometimes it was all someone needed to hear; that they were good enough. That they deserved what they had, what they’d earned.

When I looked back out over the valley I felt less small and more a kind of... ownership. This land was under the protection of the Inquisition. MY army. And right now MY people were working on MY commands. It was surreal any time I focused on it, but it was true. And it was true as well that I had earned it, in my own way.

Certainly the mark wasn’t meant for me, so much as it could have been meant for anyone. Really it had been meant for Corypheus, he’d created it for himself. 

But the memories I’d regained in the Fade resounded in me now. I’d been lurking in the halls of the Conclave, skimming the documents tucked away in fancy looking office spaces. I was sent as a spy, after all. Corypheus and the Wardens he’d already manipulated, back before the world had any hint of what was coming, had trapped the Divine in a secluded room. Trying to avoid a scene or anyone coming to rescue, which is what I’d done. 

Had I not been there the Red Future would be the present, Corypheus would have torn open the Fade that day. I couldn’t have died in place of Stroud, the Mark truly did need to be protected. It did make me more important than I ever thought I’d be, whether I felt that way about myself or not. So even though it wasn’t meant for me, I still knew I’d earned the right to feel worthy of it simply by virtue of TRYING.

I cared enough when I heard a shout for help in the Conclave that I intervened. I cared enough when I awoke in chains to stay and use the Mark against the Rifts. I cared about whether or not I deserved this power. I cared enough to care about the people who followed me. To care about people like Stroud.

“He reminded you of you,” Cole’s voice could be so gentle when he needed it to be, and he wore a tentative smile.

“Yes he did,” I thought a man like Stroud could very well have ended up in my shoes. He’d have followed the same course of action, done the right thing.

“He wouldn’t have wanted you to take his place. Just as you don’t like that he took yours,” Cole spoke the truth. We all knew the risk. The sacrifices we could one day be asked to make for our cause.

The grief was lifting and giving way to acceptance. It had happened. The only thing left to do beyond that was ensure Stroud had not given his life in vain. Defeat Corypheus.

“Cole you’re really something,” I faced him, studying his face beneath his absurd hat.

“What... does that mean?” he asked.

“Your gift, for helping people... it’s impressive is all.”

“Thank you... I think,” he said.

“It is I who should be thanking you,” I inclined my head toward him. “Heh, I know it’s sort of your thing, but you truly do show up when I need you to.”

“I want to help,” he said.

“You did,” I assured him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? You didn’t think Amheotil would beat up a guy and get laid and forget how upset he was about Stroud, did you? That’s not how grief works.
> 
> Also, I want a jelly tart....


End file.
